"HIGHLANDER"
Screenplay by
Peter Bellwood
Larry Ferguson
Gregory Widen
FADE IN:
MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
New York Rangers v. Edmonton Oilers.
15,000 screaming fans leap to their feet.
Gretsky steals the puck, streaks across the ice, beats two defenders, shoots and scores.
Oilers 6, Rangers 0. Oiler fans bellow approval.
One silent SPECTATOR, in overcoat, slacks and scarf, stands out in the crowd, unmoved by the din. He is:
CONNER MACLEOD
An aura of power and charisma sets him apart. His hypnotic eyes watch Ranger defenders slam Gretsky into the wall, punching and kicking him.
SHOUTING PLAYERS storm onto the ice.
STICKS SWING in a BRUTAL FREE-FOR-ALL.
The crowd CHEERS. A DRUNK WHOOPS at the silent man.
DRUNK
Helluva fight, ain'it? Helluva fight. Lotta fun, ain'it?
Oblivious, Macleod watches the battle. In his mind, the STICK-WIELDING PLAYERS BECOME:
CUT TO:
15TH CENTURY HIGHLANDERS WIELDING BROADSWORDS
CLASHING in battle. Mountains tower over rocks and heather.
WHINNYING HORSES, agonized CRIES, RINGING steel, SKIRLING PIPES.
DRUNK (V.O.)
Let's go belt somebody, then I buy you a drink. Whaddya say?
CUT TO:
HOCKEY STICKS CLASHING IN MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
In the riot on the ice.
Concentrating, MacLeod scans the crowd. Like a predator catching a scent, he leaves swiftly. The Drunk yells after him.
DRUNK
Hey! Where ya goin'?
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Striding past rows of cars. FOOTSTEPS ECHOING in the Garden's underground garage. MacLeod senses a presence. It's very close.
Suddenly, a MAN's silhouette appears in a tunnel, blocking his path, breath steaming in the artic air.
MAN
MacLeod.
A huge sword appears in the Man's hands. He swings. MacLeod sidesteps, drawing a weapon from inside his coat.
A Samurai sword, carved handguard, razor-sharp, feather-light.
The Man's overhead slams onto concrete, ripping up hunks of stone. MacLeod fans his blade.
MACLEOD AND THE MAN'S SWORDS
Clang in the tunnel, pulverizing cars, gouging columns in showers of brilliant sparks.
Running Feet, Shouting VOICES, distant SIRENS.
His opponent is outmatched. Surging forward:
MACLEOD
Cuts off the Man's head. A shimmering energy surges between the corpse and MacLeod. MacLeod starts to glow. The garage is crackling. Windshields EXPLODE. SIRENS closer.
VOICE (O.S.)
Over here - !
Samurai sword in hand, MacLeod sprints off, swallowed by the dark. People SHOUT.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Racing through the garage. Behind him, a woman screams. Desperate, he hides his weapon in a roof duct hidden by tiles, driving it out of sight.
In the arena above, New York scores. The CROWD CHEERS.
The SOUND DISTORTS, becoming -
CUT TO:
CHEERING VILLAGERS LINING A ROAD
Loch Shiel, Scottish Highlands, 1536. Glamis castle towers over thatched huts by the shore.
A DRAWBRIDGE CRASHES down like thunder, skirling BAG-PIPES and DRUMS.
THE CLAN MACLEOD
Two hundred strong, rides out to battle, tartan cloaks, bronze shields, claymores flashing in the sun. Hatchet-faced FATHER RAINEY chants prayers.
FATHER RAINEY
God bless our brave heroes. May this year of Our Lord 1536 bring victory to the Clan Macleod.
VILLAGERS
(cheering)
Death and damnation to the Fraziers! Long live the Clan MacLeod!
Riding in the column:
CONNER MACLEOD
The ice hockey spectator, 466 years earlier. The same age but rough-hewn, not yet possessing the quiet strength of later years. Eyes alight, huge claymore sword strapped to his side.
Carved into the blade, the single word:
MACLEOD
Riding with him, two older clansmen: DUGAL, his cousin, short, arms like trees, and ANGUS, bulky and bearded. Dugal shouts over the din.
DUGAL
Are you scared, Conner?
MACLEOD
(lying)
No, cousin Dugal. I'm not.
ANGUS
(to MacLeod)
Don't talk rubbish, lad. I peed my kilt the first time I rode to battle.
DUGAL
(to MacLeod)
Ah, Angus pees his kilt all the time.
MacLeod laughs, hiding his nervousness.
A pretty girl, KATE, races down the column holding high a bouquet.
MacLeod sweeps her up. She plants the flowers in his hat. She jumps down excitedly.
DUGAL
(continuing; to MacLeod)
A girl like that can wound a soldier more than a Frazier's sword, my friend.
KATE
Angus, you and Dugal bring him back in one piece. D'you hear?
DUGAL
We know which piece you want, lassie.
Yell from Angus. DRUMS and BAGPIPES.
CUT TO:
THE KURGAN
Standing on a hill, watching the Clan MacLeod advance into the gathering moorish fog below.
The Kurgan is a frightening hulk astride a massive black stallion. Flashing eyes and a cruel mouth.
Frazier chief MURDOCH gallops up.
KURGAN
Is the one called Conner among them?
MURDOCH
Aye.
KURGAN
Remember our pact. The boy is mine.
Murdoch nods. He fears this giant.
FROM BELOW
... can be heard the BATTLE CRIES and frenzied BAG-PIPES of the MacLeod and Frazier clans.
MURDOCH
It's begun. Death to the MacLeods!
They charge.
CUT TO:
THE BATTLE OF LOCH SHIEL, 1536
MacLeods and Frazers collide in fury. Raging carnage. Fog slowly moving in.
MacLeod, Dugal and Angus in the thick of it. MacLeod tries to engage the enemy. Each time they avoid him.
Dugal's helpless beneath three Frazers. Flying from the saddle, Angus kills two of them. The third bolts.
Gradually, the fog makes it impossible to see more than a few yards. Each man's battle is his own, hopelessly separated from the battling clansmen around them.
Wild-eyed, MacLeod leaps off his horse, hauling Dugal up.
MACLEOD
(shouting)
Nobody will fight me! They all run away!
DUGAL
(grinning)
Great, laddie. Stay by me.
Suddenly, they see:
A HULKING GIANT ON A BLACK STALLION
Thundering down on them, sword wheeling, an unstoppable juggernaut, butchering everything in his path.
It's the Kurgan
MACLEOD
(transfixed)
Mother of God - !
He feels dizzy. The Kurgan knocks Dugal senseless, disintegrating MacLeod's shield.
Snarling, he vaults from his horse, driving his blade deep into MacLeod's stomach.
Mortally wounded, MacLeod drops to his knees, vainly swinging at the ghastly specter. The Kurgan swats away his sword as though it were a toothpick.
Relishing the moment, he raises his blade high, voice grating in triumph
KURGAN
There can be only one.
MacLeod is helpless. Time hangs suspended. Lost in the blackness of the Kurgan's eyes, he prepares to meet his maker.
At the last second, Dugal, Angus and others appear, pile-driving the Kurgan back over dying clansmen.
KURGAN
Another time, Highlander.
Life ebbing, MacLeod groans, staring at the sky.
CUT TO:
POLICE CRUISERS
SCREECHING to a halt outside the Garden, SIRENS DYING, blocking the exit tunnel. Cops pile out, guns drawn, GARFIELD and HAGGERTY in charge.
Headlights appear. A BMW crests the ramp at 60, sees the block,
SQUEALS to a smoking stop. Cops take aim.
HAGGERTY
(shouting)
Get out of the car! Put your hands on the hood.
(nothing)
Move - !
MacLeod obeys. They frisk him. Garfield finds a wallet, checks a license:
MacLeod's photo, name and address:
"RUSSELL EDWIN NASH
1182 HUDSON STREET
NEW YORK, NY 10013"
Garfield shines a light in the suspect's eyes. They seem bottomless, unafraid.
GARFIELD
Where you going in such a hurry, Mr. Nash?
Garfield grabs his arm. trying to handcuff him. Bad idea. MacLeod hurls him away. Garfield falls on his ass.
A ton of cops swamp MacLeod, slamming his face into the windshield. Enraged, Garfield staggers up, jamming his .45 into MacLeod's neck.
GARFIELD
Don't move, asshole. Don't even breathe.
Another cruiser arrives. It's DYING SIREN becomes -
CUT TO:
A LONE PIPER ON GLAMIS CASTLE TURRET
His mournful LAMENT rising to the stars bove
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Breathing his last on a trestle bed in a hut, torso bandaged.
Fire crackles in a hearth. Kate kneels by the bed. Battle-scarred, Dugal and Angus stand by.
FATHER RAINEY
In nomine patri, et fili et spiritus sancti. Amen.
(leaving)
It is over. Other men are dying this day. I must attend them.
Kate collapses, weeping. Dugal and Angus drag her away.
ANGUS
He's a Highlander, by God. The last sound he hears shall not be a wailing woman.
They leave. Flickering shadows. MacLeod's abored breathing slowly fades.
CUT TO:
LIEUTENANT FRANK MORAN, HOMICIDE
In the garage under the Garden, breathing hard. Bulky, in raincoat and hat, six months to pension. With him:
DETECTIVE WALTER BEDSOE
Honest, tough, not a million miles deep.
At their feet, the Man's torso. Further away, the head. TV crews jostle under lights. Fans shout behind barricades - when can they get their goddamn cars?
BRENDA WYATT
Forensics, sexy in jeans, boots and windbreaker, shoves through the crowd, ducking the barrier. She carries bags of equipment.
JACK LEBOWSKY
Coroner's office, wild hair, pasty-faced, takes flash shots, unfazed by the grisly scene.
Brenda joins Moran.
BRENDA
Damn it, Frank. Forensics is supposed to be notified the same time as Homicide.
(noticing corpse)
What a mess.
MORAN
This one came unassembled.
Lebowsky laughs.
BRENDA
(to Moran)
Did you make an arrest?
MORAN
Yeah. An antique dealer named Nash on Hudson Street.
She moves away:
ANOTHER ANGLE
Frowning, she examines a row of cars, confounded by the blitzed windshields. What the hell happened?
BESIDE THE BODY
Lebowsky takes final shots, winking at Bedsoe.
LEBOWSKY
(to Moran)
How come you're not asking me the cause of death, Frank?
Bedsoe chuckles.
MORAN
Cut the crap, Lebowsky. What time did he buy it?
Lebowsky kneels, examining the corpse, checking his watch.
LEBOWSKY
Ten. Ten-thirty. And whatever made this cut was razor-sharp.
BEDSOE
(to Moran, indicating corpse)
Frank, wasn't there something on the teletype about a guy killed in Jersey 2 nights ago, just like this?
Moran scratches his head.
BEHIND THE CORVETTE
Brenda freezes, staring down at a huge sword.
BRENDA
(shouting)
Hey, Frank. Look at this.
Moran and Lebowsky join her.
BRENDA
It's a Toledo-Salamanca.
MORAN
It's a what - ?
She dusts the jeweled hilt for prints.
BRENDA
A sword, Frank. A very rare sword.
MORAN
Worth much?
BRENDA
Only about a million bucks.
(standing up)
Any antique dealer with a shop on Hudson Street could tell you that.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Sitting in a room, waiting. Peeling paint, tape recorder, table and chairs.
Garfield, the cop who booked him, leans on the wall, itching to get even.
MacLeod suddenly stares at him. Garfield shivers. The guy's eyes are like lasers. The cop looks away.
MORAN AND BEDSOE
Enter, slamming the door. Moran's got a package and folder. Bedsoe joins Garfield against the wall.
Moran sits down, package by his chair. He clicks on the tape and opens a folder.
Inside: wallet, money and driver's license issued to Russell Nash.
He tosses a mug-shot of a swarthy man onto the table.
MORAN
Ever see this guy before, Nash?
MacLeod hasn't.
MORAN
Name's Osta Vazilek. Bulgarian national. Got his head chopped off two nights ago in Jersey.
(unwrapping package)
Ever get over to Jersey, Nash?
MACLEOD
Not if I can help it.
MORAN
You're an antique dealer, right?
MACLEOD
Yes.
Moran lays down the jewelled weapon.
MORAN
Okay, what's this?
MACLEOD
A sword.
MORAN
It's a -
(checks notes)
Toledo-Salamanca broad-sword. Worth a million bucks.
MACLEOD
So?
MORAN
You wanna hear a theory?
(MacLeod shrugs)
You went down to the garage to buy this sword from some guy.
(quickly)
What was his name?
MACLEOD
I don't know. You tell me.
MORAN
His name was Iman Fasil. You fought about the price. Then you cut off his head.
MACLEOD
Wanna hear another theory?
(Moran nods)
This Fasil was so upset by the Rangers' lousy performance tonight, he went down to the garage and in a fit of depression, cut off his own head.
Bedsoe LAUGHS.
MORAN
That ain't funny, Walt Garfield can control himself no longer.
GARFIELD
You a faggot, Nash?
MACLEOD
Why? You cruising for ass?
GARFIELD
(leaning in)
I'll tell you what happened, Russell - you went down to the garage looking for a hand-job, and just didn't want to pay for it.
MACLEOD
You're sick.
Garfield swings. Kicking the table aside, MacLeod jumps up, SMASHING his fist into Garfield's sternum. Garfield goes down.
Moran's on Garfield in a flash, knee on his chest, Bedsoe struggles to restrain MacLeod.
MORAN
(shouting)
Calm down - !
(to Garfield)
I mean it, damnit - !
Flinging Bedsoe off him, MacLeod picks up his wallet.
MACLEOD
Am I under arrest?
(no answer)
Then we're through.
He walks to the door.
MORAN
Nash, we're just getting started.
MacLeod is gone. Moran stands up. Garfield struggles to his feet.
GARFIELD
Jesus. That guy hits like a train.
MORAN
Shut up, Rocky. I'll deal with you in a minute.
He turns to Bedsoe
MORAN
Tail him, Walt. And try and pay attention. That sucker's cool as ice.
Bedsoe leaves. Moran turns to Garfield.
EXT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
MacLeod steps out into the crisp night air.
Oblivious to traffic, his eyes scan the dark. Sensing something, he turns south, looking toward Jersey.
CUT TO:
A TAN CUTLASS ON THE NEW JERSEY TURNPIKE
Knifing through the night. Inside, behind the wheel:
THE KURGAN - A CHILLING SPECTER
Shark's eyes, short curly hair.
Like MacLeod, he hasn't aged - but a hideous scar runs from ear-to ear across his throat. It affects his voice, turning it into a metallic gurgle. News on the RADIO.
NEWSCASTER'S VOICE
Police arrested a man at the decapitation scene in Madison Square Garden. They have not released his name.
KURGAN
(turns it off)
I know his name.
His metallic gargle is even more grating.
He slams a cassette into the stereo, a high-decibel heavy-metal ROCK SONG: It's the Kurgan's anthem.
Raving singer, pounding drums, shrieking guitars. In the headlights, a sign:
"YOU ARE NOW LEAVING NEW JERSEY
THE GARDEN STATE
HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR STAY!"
The Kurgan smiles grotesquely.
KURGAN
I had a better time than Osta Vazilek. That is for sure.
His voice sounds like nails on a slate.
BRENDA
Sitting at a spectrograph, placing metal shards under a lens. Clamping wires to them, she starts a machine.
HUMMING sound. Crackling arc. She checks a computer, takes photos. The arc dies.
She waits. A printer starts. Data rolls. She studies it.
BRENDA
It's not possible.
Incredulous, she runs the test again. Same result.
BRENDA
Son-of-a-bitch.
Grabbing coat and bag, she heads for the door.
CUT TO:
BEDSOE
Following MacLeod along Central Park South, down Broadway to Times Square.
ANGLE
Hungry and tired, Bedsoe trudges past bums, porno-pits and neon signs.
MacLeod descends stairs to a subway. Picking up speed:
BEDSOE
Races down after him. Reaching the tracks, he can't believe his eyes.
The platform's deserted.
CUT TO:
BRENDA
Driving her red Pontiac, turning south on 5th Avenue.
Late-night traffic. Lionel Ritchie on the RADIO.
AT 34TH
She turns west, arriving at Madison Square Garden. Parking on the street, she gets out, carrying a bag.
CUT TO:
BRENDA
Walking through the garage, flashlight piercing the murk.
She shivers, heading for where Fasil was killed.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD'S FACE IN THE FLARE OF THE LIGHTER
In the underground garage. Reaching into the roof-duct hidden by tiles, he pulls out his Samurai sword.
Noting the chipped edge and missing pieces, he slides it into a sheath inside his coat.
FOOTSTEPS. He snuffs the lighter
CUT TO:
BRENDA
Guiding a metal-detector across the floor. Chalk outlines where Fasil's corpse used to be. Near a column, a red light blinks on her detector.
Cradling the flash, she removes SHARDS with a scalpel, dropping them into a plastic bag.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Hidden in shadows.
CUT TO:
BRENDA
Hears a distant CLANK. She whirls her flashlight up the tunnel.
BRENDA
Who's there?
Silence. Something's down here. She can feel it.
Trying to control her panic, she heads for the exit. She starts running, faster and faster.
CUT TO:
BRENDA
Trying to unlock her Pontiac. Heart racing, she drops her keys.
BRENDA
Goddamn it.
Retrieving them, she opens the door and ROARS off.
CUT TO:
BRENDA
Entering P.J. Clarke's. Almost empty. It's late.
She takes a corner table, trying to calm down. PHIL, the waiter, appears.
PHIL
Hi, Brenda. What can I get you?
BRENDA
Vodka. Lots of it.
He leaves.
Removing the plastic bag from her purse, she opens it, tipping a metal shard into her trembling hand.
MACLEOD
Enters and looks around. Spotting her, he sits in a nearby booth. Phil re-appears with a bottle of vodka.
PHIL
Say when.
Three-quarters full.
BRENDA
When.
She drinks. Noticing MacLeod, Phil glides over, returning to Brenda.
PHIL
The guy over there wants you to join him for a drink.
BRENDA
What guy?
Leaning forward, she sees a dim profile.
BRENDA
Thank him and tell him no.
Phil delivers the message. Brenda gulps vodka, mind in turmoil.
Suddenly, MacLeod sits by her side. She jumps like a cat.
BRENDA
What do you think you're doing?
MACLEOD
Joining you. I'd like to buy you a drink.
Brenda drains her vodka, setting down the glass.
BRENDA
I don't drink
About to tell him to get lost, she looks into his eyes for the first time. Unexpectedly, she's overcome by feelings of warmth and safety.
MACLEOD
What's your name?
His voice caresses her. She's mesmerized by his gaze. Adrift, she hears herself answer.
BRENDA
Brenda.
The silence between them is electric. Phil RINGS the register. The spell is broken.
She's got to get away from this guy. Shouldering her bag, she rises, heading for the door. He doesn't move.
MACLEOD
Do you get over to Madison Square Garden much?
She freezes, heart pounding.
BRENDA
(turning)
What did you say?
MACLEOD
Madison Square Garden. Get over there much?
Eyes that were comforting 10 seconds ago are now cold, drilling into her brain.
BRENDA
Why?
MACLEOD
They've got basketball. The circus. Ice-hockey.
(a beat)
What's your last name, Brenda?
She swallows hard.
BRENDA
How come you're asking me about Madison Square Garden? Did you follow me in here?
No answer. He smiles. Her blood turns to ice.
BRENDA
Who the hell are you?
MACLEOD
(rising)
Let me walk you home, Brenda. Pretty girl, alone on the streets at night. No telling what could happen.
BRENDA
Forget it. I can take care of myself.
He shrugs, sitting down. She walks out, pausing to look back at him in the gloom. He raises his glass to her.
CUT TO:
OUTSIDE THE BAR
Brenda waits in shadows, watching MacLeod leave. He stands for a moment, looking up and down 55th Street.
Pulling up his collar, he moves off into the night, turning down a dark alley.
Making a fateful decision, she follows him.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Walking briskly near the East River. Cold wind blowing. 4:00 a.m. Deserted.
Steam rises from vents. Cars line the curb. Cats YOWL. It's spooky.
Hearing FOOTSTEPS, he stops every few yards.
At the corner of 46th, his eyes rake the street. Nothing. Without warning, he sprints off, disappearing into:
A SHADOWY CONSTRUCTION SITE
RUNNING FOOTSTEPS. He grasps the Samurai hilt inside his coat.
A FIGURE hurtles round the corner. Springing forward, MacLeod grabs handfuls of hair.
SHOUTING in panic, Brenda fights to get free.
BRENDA
Get your hands off me!
Pumping with adrenalin, MacLeod shakes her, pulling her into the dark, against a brick wall. She SCREAMS.
A light goes on in a nearby apartment.
MACLEOD
Be quiet. I -
He breaks off, listening to the night, eyes flashing. Instinctively MacLeod ducks, yanking her with him to the dirt.
Next second:
A GLEAMING SWORD SHATTERS BRICK
Inches above their heads. He rolls away from her, struggling to avoid a slashing blade. Dumbstruck, Brenda stares up at:
A HOWLING GIANT WITH A SCAR ACROSS HIS NECK
Wielding a huge sword. It's the Kurgan.
MacLeod grabs a steel pipe, blocking the Kurgan's murderous blows. The Kurgan's so fast, MacLeod can't draw his sword.
In desperation, he side-steps and charges, tackling him. Locked together, they topple down an embankment into:
A SHALLOW PIT
Untangling himself, sword in hand, the Kurgan attacks. MacLeod defends himself with the pipe.
KURGAN
(swinging)
Good to see you again, MacLeod. 400 years is a long time.
MACLEOD
(blocking)
You slimy bastard - !
SOUNDS of DISTANT SIRENS.
UP THE EMBANKMENT
Brenda peers through the murk. Straining to see what's going on, she loses her footing. CRYING OUT, she falls:
INTO THE PIT
Cannoning into MacLeod's back.
MACLEOD
Jesus Christ!
(yelling)
Get the hell out of here!
Bellowing, the giant charges again. MacLeod shoves Brenda out of the path of sudden death.
KURGAN
(rasping)
There can only be one, Highlander.
The 2 men battle through the skeleton of a building. The Kurgan's murderous blade misses MacLeod by inches, slicing through solid iron.
The sky ERUPTS. THRASHING ROTORS. ROARING down-blast.
Blinding clouds of dirt and debris.
IT'S A POLICE CHOPPER
Searchlight beams probe swirling dust. From the sky, an AMPLIFIED VOICE:
VOICE (V.O.)
You, on the ground! Stay where you are!
Brenda CHOKES, blinded. From nowhere, MacLeod grabs her. His arms are like steel.
KURGAN'S VOICE
(SHOUTING out of the dark)
Some other time, Highlander. There can be only one.
MacLeod hauls Brenda up the embankment, away from the light, melting into the dark. SIRENS CLOSER.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Dragging Brenda across 1st Avenue.
BRENDA
(lungs bursting)
Stop. For Christ's sake.
They halt under a street-light. She gasps for breath.
BRENDA
Who in the name of God was that? He called you Highlander. What did he mean, "There can be only one?" Only one what?
MACLEOD
Shut up!
He pulls her close, eyes like bullet-holes.
MACLEOD
Listen, lady. You almost got yourself killed.
BRENDA
I want -
He shakes her, trying to scare her away.
MACLEOD
Don't you ever follow me again.
(intensely)
Forget about what you saw tonight. You only have one life. If you value it -
(angrily)
Go home!
He strides off. A garbage can CRASHES in an alley.
Brenda jumps.
CUT TO:
KENNY, A DESK CLERK
Signing in the Kurgan. Ansonia Hotel, 73rd and Broadway.
A TV is on Derelicts litter the lobby.
KENNY, a chain-smoking greaser, checks the name the Kurgan's written in the register, handing him a key.
KENNY
Okay, Mr. Victor Kruger. Room 315. And I'm gonna hit you for 20 in advance.
The Kurgan pulls out a thick roll of bills, dropping a 20. Kenny eyes the roll greedily.
KENNY
Listen, you want anything. Broads, blow. Just dial 0.
Picking up a black, oblong case, the Kurgan heads for the elevator.
CUT TO:
THE KURGAN
On a sagging bed in Room 315. Roaches crawl on a hot-plate.
Shirtless, heavily-scarred, he munches tacos, watching Yosemite Sam on TV, digging the violence.
He opens his black case. Laid out in velvet slots:
THE COMPONENTS OF A LARGE SWORD
Meaty fingers caress quillions, pommel, hilt and blade. Getting up, he moves to the window. Below, junkies shiver in Needle Park.
KURGAN
At last... the Gathering.
He chuckles, an unnerving sound. KNOCK on the door.
A blonde HOOKER in hot-pants and boots, breasts bursting from a tight sweater, leans on the jamb, cracking gum.
HOOKER
I'm Candy.
KURGAN
Of course you are.
Dragging her in, he flings her on the bed. Fearfully, she watches him unbuckle his belt. He slams the door.
CUT TO:
DUGAL
Slamming down a tankard of ale in the Glamis tavern. Angus and Kate sit with him.
It's 1536, the day after the fight between the Frazers and MacLeods.
Angry villagers pack the place, only one thing on their minds - MacLeod's strange delivery from the jaws of death.
Kate's thrilled by all the excitement.
DUGAL
You saw the wound, Angus. He should have died.
KATE
I say he's got the devil in him.
The tavern erupts in shouting
MacLeod enters. Sudden silence. Seeing Angus, he moves to join his table.
DUGAL
(rising)
Drinking with us, are you?
MacLeod freezes. Kate's eyes sparkle. Angus avoids his gaze.
MACLEOD
What's the matter, Dugal?
DUGAL
You. Talking and breathing - and this morning, all but a corpse.
(shouting)
How did you manage that, Conner MacLeod?
MACLEOD
Would you rather I was dead?
KATE
(to crowd)
It's not natural. He's in league with Lucifer.
Uproar.
MACLEOD
Don't say that, Kate.
DUGAL
I'll say it. You've got the devil in you.
MACLEOD
We've been kinsmen 15 years, cousin.
DUGAL
Conner MacLeod was my kinsman. I don't know who you are.
Kate's eyes dance. The tension is electric
ANGUS
You'd best leave, Conner.
MACLEOD
(bravely)
I'm not going anywhere.
Dugal swings at MacLeod's head, knocking him down, kicking him in the ribs.
A plowman destroys a chair on MacLeod's back. Angus shouts over the din -
ANGUS
For God's sake, stop - !
A villager belts MacLeod with a jug. Struggling, he disappears under a shouting heap of clansmen.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD WITH AN OX-YOKE STRAPPED TO HIS BACK
Arms bound to it with ropes, face battered, on his knees in the dirt.
Beyond, Glamis Castle towers over Loch Shiel.
Dugal, Angus, Father Rainey and Kate stand in a circle of yelling villagers. The excitement has unhinged Kate's mind.
ANGUS
(yelling at Dugal)
He's your cousin, man.
FATHER RAINEY
Burn him. It's the only way.
VILLAGERS
(chanting)
Burn him! Burn him!
ANGUS
(over crowd)
Quiet!
The NOISE subsides.
ANGUS
There'll be no burning here today. We'll banish him.
KATE
Burn him! Burn him!
Dugal's disgusted by Kate's religious frenzy.
DUGAL
Be quiet, Kate.
The villagers shout objections. He nods to Angus and they help MacLeod to his feet. He staggers under the yoke.
ANGUS
Can you walk?
MACLEOD
I'll bloody well walk out of here.
ANGUS
Move, friend. Before they change their minds.
MACLEOD
I'll not forget you, Angus.
MacLeod is driven out. Villagers spit and curse. Wild-eyed, Kate dances round him.
KATE
Devil! Devil! Devil!
VILLAGERS
(chanting)
Devil! Devil! Devil!
ANOTHER ANGLE
Stumbling along the loch, MacLeod heads for the mountains.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Walking west on Christopher. Dim streetlights. Dogs BARKING.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD'S HOME - 1182 HUDSON STREET, SOHO
Surrounded by Irish bars, art galleries, rubble-filled lots.
MacLeod heads for a run-down shop next to a dilapidated ten-story glass-and-iron warehouse.
On the shop door: "R. NASH - ANTIQUES"
Rummaging for keys, he unlocks the door and goes inside.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD IN A RISING FREIGHT ELEVATOR
The doors open. Before him:
A HUGE, OPEN, NEW YORK LOFT
The change from drab outside to sumptuous inside is stunning. Exotic fish swim in a huge aquarium.
MacLeod descends the stairs to:
A SUNKEN LIVING ROOM
Filled with modern art. High veilings, comfortable sofas, Adam fireplace, spectacular views of the river.
Moving past speakers and TVs, he drops his keys on a table beside an intercom and answering machine.
In a silver frame on the mantle: a photo of MacLeod with a young girl, 1952. MacLeod moves through:
A GEORGIAN DINING AREA
Queen Anne table, silver candlesticks, tapestries on the wall. He enters:
AN ULTRA-MODERN KITCHEN
Loosening his tie, he fixes a drink and walks out.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Entering his silver room. Elegant and oval. Fabric walls. Sofas, tables, displays of ancient artifacts:
On one wall, like spokes of a wheel: 13 broad swords.
Beside them, a bronze shield, claymore and cloak - the black-and-yellow tartan of the Clan MacLeod.
Sipping his drink, he sinks into a sofa, eyeing a glass case lit by pin-spots. Inside:
An ancient sheepskin doll.
A 16th century catalan feathered hat.
A rusty anvil and tongs.
MacLeod stares at the anvil and tons, remembering:
CUT TO:
RED-HOT IRON IN TONGS
Crashing onto an anvil in a sweltering blacksmith's forge. It's 1541.
Wielding a hammer, streaked with grime and sweat, MacLeod pounds out a horsehoe, plunging it into water. HISSING STEAM.
In the five years since his banishment, he's filled out - although he's lost none of his wide-eyed, youthful exuberance.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Shoeing a mare outside. The forge clings to a crag. Miles down a precarious trail, the town of Jedburgh.
Up the hill, a 3-story stone house. From the house:
HEATHER MACLEOD
Appears in sheepskins, bonnet and boots, carrying a basket.
Full-breasted, lusty and apple-cheeked, she feeds geese, watching him.
HEATHER
(waving basket)
Pie and ale. D'you want it?
Dropping his hammer, he grabs her buttocks, crushing her to him, grinning.
MACLEOD
All the time.
HEATHER
(squealing)
You filthy sod. You're all muck and muscle.
MACLEOD
Aye. The way you like it.
He grins, kissing her. Stripping his apron, he dunks his torso in a rain barrel, shaking himself off like a dog.
She smiles. He's the loveliest man in the world.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD AND HEATHER
Making love on the cliff-top in the grass. Remains of a picnic.
Thunderheads soar over the mountains. A storm is coming. MacLeod kisses her. She responds
HEATHER
You can do that forever if you like, my lord. Will you, Conner?
MACLEOD
Aye, blossom. I will.
Foreign CURSES. Startled, they sit up.
CUT TO:
JUAN RAMIREZ
Climbing the trail to the forge. Olive skin, hawk nose, twinkling eyes, flashing teeth. Flintlock pistol in his belt, crossbow across his back.
Strapped to his side, a Samurai sword, carved hand-guard, razor-sharp, feather-light.
Overheated in cloak, pantaloons, feathers and gloves, he clambers higher, swooning with fatigue.
ANGLE
Dragging himself to the top, he mops his brow.
Seeing the peasant couple before him, he bows, hat sweeping the ground.
RAMIREZ
Greetings! I am Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez, Chief Metallurgist to King Philip II of Spain.
(clicks heels)
At your service.
HEATHER
Who - ?
Ramirez sees stars, looking down the trail.
RAMIREZ
My God, man. That's a climb!
Breathless, he replaces his hat, adjusting frills and furbelows.
MACLEOD
What do you want?
RAMIREZ
Conner MacLeod
MACLEOD
Maybe you've found him.
RAMIREZ
The same Conner MacLeod wounded in battle and driven from his village five years ago?
The Spaniard narrows his eyes. Something seems to seize MacLeod. He clutches his chest, unable to beathe. Heather's alarmed.
HEATHER
Conner?
MACLEOD
(gasping)
Heather, go in the house.
(she hesitates)
Do as I say, woman
She backs up the hill and goes inside.
Ramirez flashes wall-to-wall teeth. THUNDER reverberates down the valley.
RAMIREZ
(re: Heather)
A beautiful young woman. Is she your wife?
(MacLeod nods)
Sad.
MacLeod's temples are in a vise. Ramirez opens his tunic, tracing:
A SCAR FROM NECK TO HIP
With elegant finger.
RAMIREZ
When I was young, a cart ran over me. I should have died. But the wound healed by itself.
Stars explode inside MacLeod's head. The forge, the house, everything's spinning.
RAMIREZ
The sensations you feel. It is the Quickening.
THUNDER CRACKS overhead. The storm breaks. HOWLING WIND. Ramirez's eyes blaze with unearthly light.
MACLEOD
(shouting)
Who are you?
RAMIREZ
(shouting)
We are the same, MacLeod. We are brothers.
Lightning etches their silhouettes against the rolling sky.
CUT TO:
BRENDA
Moving through a squad-room toward:
Moran on the phone, at his desk. Walls plastered with mug-shots. Steam pipes HISS & BANG.
Seeing Brenda, he waves her to a seat with the receiver.
SHOUTING on the line.
MORAN
(into receiver)
Listen, pal. My advice is, get a bigger one next time. One that'll bite him.
He slams down the phone, eyeing Brenda.
MORAN
Here's what I'm dealing with. Guy calls up Homicide. Wants to swear out a complaint. His Vietnamese neighbor ate his dog.
(a beat)
How are things in Forensics?
BRENDA
Dull. Come on. let's have lunch.
MORAN
Who pays?
BRENDA
Me.
Moran likes it. He puts on his coat. Thay head for the door. Brenda stops.
BRENDA
Frank, I left my purse. Go ahead. I'll catch you by the elevator.
Moran leaves. Brenda returns to the desk, opens a drawer, and finds what she's looking for:
A bound, blue folder containing photos of Fasil's body, the sword, a copy of an interrogation report - and:
NASH'S MUG-SHOT
It's the guy from the bar who fought the scarred giant.
BRENDA
I'll be damned. Russell Nash.
She stares at the picture. Even in the harsh photo-flash, his face is compelling. The eyes, haunting, evoking timeless mystery.
Moran's phone RINGS. She jumps.
Glancing around, she jots down Nash's address, shuts the drawer, gets her purse and heads out.
CUT TO:
YUNG DOL KIM
Alone in a rising elevator. An oriental with mahogany skin, obsidian eyes, guard's uniform and cap, carrying a huge sword.
He watches the floor numbers, stops at 40. The doors open. He creeps out into:
AN EMPTY, CARPETED HALLWAY
Silence. Gliding past silent offices, he spots:
A FIGURE WITH A SWORD IN AN ALCOVE
Swinging, he slices off the figure's head. It rolls into the light. He stares down at it. It's plastic. He has destroyed a mannequin.
Behind him, CROAKING LAUGHTER. Kim turns. The Kurgan appears with his weapon, amused by his little joke.
KURGAN
Such a brave warrior
(suddenly ice-cold)
Let's see how you can handle the real thing.
The Kurgan charges, battering Kim into:
AN OFFICE
Filled with rows of computer desks. The Kurgan goads Kim, side-stepping blows which SMASH files and phones. He's like a giant cat playing with a helpless mouse.
KURGAN
You fight like an old woman, Kim. You're disgusting.
No longer amused, the Kurgan becomes a one-man wrecking-crew. He chases Kim, blitzing the office. The brilliance of his swordsmanship is staggering. unexpectedly:
Kim drops his sword on the carpet. Behind him, through a window, the lights of Manhatten.
KURGAN
What are you doing? Pick up your sword.
KIM
Tradition, once more?
KURGAN
It is all we have
KIM
It's no longer enough. I'm tired, Kurgan. Four hundred years without release. Let's be done with it. I want peace.
KURGAN
I will give you peace
(raising sword)
There can be only one.
He cuts off Kim's head. A shimmering energy flashes between the corpse and Kurgan.
He starts to glow. Computer-screens EXPLODE. From nowhere, a terrifying wind starts blowing. Pares fly. Water-coolers CRASH to the floor.
The window IMPLODES, sucking Kim's body out into space. It falls 40 floors.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD AT HOME
Sharpening his Samurai sword with a jeweler's file before a CRACKLING FIRE. He's in his sunken lounge.
On a coffee-table in front of him, a book:
"A
METALLURGICAL HISTORY
OF
ANCIENT SWORD-MAKING
BY
BRENDA J. WYATT"
He studies the smiling photo, reading the bio. The author does forensics work for the City of New York.
Above him, fish swim in the aquarium. He watches them, mind drifting back through time.
CUT TO:
RAMIREZ & MACLEOD
In a boat, heading for an island in the middle of a loch.
Resplendent in feathered hat, jewelled tunic, cape and boots, the Spaniard mans the oars.
Alarmed, MacLeod sits facing the Spaniard, white-knuckling his claymore.
MACLEOD
I don't like boats. I don't like water. I'm a man, not a fish.
RAMIREZ
You complain endlessly. I wonder if I'm wasting my time with you, brother.
MACLEOD
Stop calling me brother. You look like a woman, you stupid haggis.
RAMIREZ
Haggis? What is haggis?
MACLEOD
A sheep's stomach stuffed with meat and barley.
RAMIREZ
What do you do with it?
MACLEOD
You eat it.
RAMIREZ
How revolting
Resting the oars, he takes snuff, inhaling deeply.
LOUD SNEEZE. The boat rocks violently.
MACLEOD
(quaking)
Be still, for God's sake. You'll tip us over.
RAMIREZ
So?
MACLEOD
I can't swim - you Spanish peacock.
Their angry voices carry across the lake.
RAMIREZ
I am not Spanish. I am Egyptian.
MACLEOD
You said you were from Spain. You're a liar.
RAMIREZ
You smell like a dung-heap. You have the manners of a goat. And no knowledge of your potential.
Gleefully, Ramirez starts violently rocking the boat.
MacLeod is terrified. See-sawing wildly, he grabs for an oar. Ramirez suddenly throws him overboard.
HUGE SPLASH. YELLING, MacLeod disappears, bobbing up, flailing his arms.
MACLEOD
Help me. I'm drowning.
Ramirez rows for the island.
RAMIREZ
You can't drown, you fool. You're immortal.
MacLeod sinks in bubbles. Ramirez keeps rowing.
CUT TO:
BRENDA
Parking outside 1182 Hudson Street. Getting out of the car, she checks the address in her notebook. Across the street, the sign:
"R. NASH - ANTIQUES"
She heads for the door.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Staring into the fire in the sunken lounge. A flashing light distracts him. He flips a switch, hearing VOICES on the INTERCOM.
FEMALE VOICE
I'm sorry, Miss Wyatt. Mr. Nash is unavailable.
BRENDA'S VOICE
I need to talk to him now. Can I call him at home?
Glancing at Brenda Wyatt's book on the coffee table, he gets up. He pushes a button that opens a door leading to the outer office.
CUT TO:
IN THE OUTER OFFICE
RACHEL ELLENSTEIN, 52
Good-looking, business-like, in pant-suit and glasses, sits at a desk in Nash's shop, talking to Brenda. Antiques everywhere.
RACHEL
I'm afraid not.
MacLeod appears.
MACLEOD
Hi.
RACHEL
This is Brenda Wyatt, Mr. Nash.
MACLEOD
(to Brenda)
Ah, Wyatt. That's your last name.
(turning)
We've already met, Rachel.
(to Brenda)
What can I do for you.
Resolute, she takes a deep breath.
BRENDA
I'd like some advice.
MACLEOD
Are you the kind of woman who takes advice.
BRENDA
That depends.
She meets his gaze, ready for anything. He grins. Rachel enjoys the sparring.
MACLEOD
Advice about what?
BRENDA
What can you tell me about a seven-foot lunatic hacking away with a broadsword at one o'clock in the morning in New York City, 1985?
MACLEOD
Not much.
BRENDA
Then how about a Japanese sword made in 600 B.C.?
(he frowns)
The metal in the blade folded 200 times.
MacLeod shakes his head. This woman just keeps coming.
MACLEOD
I don't deal in exotic weapons.
Taking her arm, he guides her to a display-case.
MACLEOD
Can I show you something in 18th Century silver?
BRENDA
That's not why I came here, and you know it.
She looks right into his eyes. Her closeness unsettles him.
MACLEOD
Do you cook?
BRENDA
Why?
MACLEOD
I thought we might have diner
BRENDA
(provocatively)
Did you?
MACLEOD
Yes.
He finds her aggressiveness sexy. Before he can speak, the street door opens.
Bedsoe bursts in.
Seeing MacLeod and Brenda, he turns away, scrutinizing a tapestry - mermaids frolicking with sea-monsters.
By the door, Macleod pauses at Bedsoe's elbow, contemplating the garish creation.
MACLEOD
The Rape of Neptune's Daughter by the Fish Creatures.
(Bedsoe blinks at him)
Do you like fish?
BEDSOE
To eat, you mean?
MacLeod is gone.
CUT TO:
RAMIREZ
On the island, by a CRACKLING fire, back to the loch. The boat's on the beach.
Bright sunshine. Stunning scenery. He enjoys the solitude, sword at his side on the ground.
Behind him, 50 yards away, the lake surface swirls silently. Something is out there. A glowering head appears.
IT'S MACLEOD
Rising up out of the lake. Spotting Ramirez, he wades cautiously to the shore.
Covered in duck-weed and slime, he draws his claymore, creeping silently to within feet of the Spaniard's back.
Slowly he raises his sword in both hands high over Ramirez's head. He's going to cut the bastard in half.
With all his might, he brings the sword down. Something incredible happens.
Like lightning, without looking back, Ramirez grabs his Samurai, parries the blow and is up and facing him in one blind motion.
MacLeod's claymore flies from his hands.
RAMIREZ
What took you so long?
MacLeod watches his sword land on the beach 50 feet away.
MACLEOD
This can't be. It's the devil's work.
RAMIREZ
(laughing)
You numbskull! Clod! You're no better than the villagers who threw you out.
Livid, MacLeod splutters water, staring back at the loch, trying to make sense of what's happened.
RAMIREZ
You cannot die, MacLeod. Accept it.
Two fish wriggle free from the Highlander's tunic, flopping to the sand.
Scowling at the Spaniard, he wishes this cup would pass from him, suspecting in his heart it will not.
MACLEOD
(through his teeth)
I... hate... you...
RAMIREZ
Good! it's a place to start
CUT TO:
MACLEOD AND RAMIREZ SPARRING BY A WATERFALL
CLANGING steel-on-steel. Rainbows of spray span the gorge. MacLeod is strong but awkward. Ramirez's Samurai SINGS in a brilliant display of swordsmanship.
RAMIREZ
No, no, pendejo. Protect your stupid head.
MacLeod thrusts. Ramirez blocks.
RAMIREZ
Concentrate! You can survive anything but steel against your throat. If your head leaves your neck, it's over.
Bellowing, MacLeod strikes. Ramirez deflects the blow with ease.
RAMIREZ
Move your feet!
(advancing)
We must fight until only one remains. There can be only one.
(shouting)
Move your feet, I said!
(ducking a swing)
You are safe only on holy ground. None of us will violate that law.
Exhausted, MacLeod staggers. Ramirez taunts him, jabbing him in the butt.
MACLEOD
(yelling)
You over-dressed haggis. I'm going to split you in half.
Swinging his claymore, MacLeod goes berserk, missing Ramirez altogether, smashing brush, demolishing trees.
Finally, he collapses, gulping for air in the grass. Ramirez stands over him.
RAMIREZ
Get up!
MACLEOD
Go to hell. I've had enough.
The Spaniard's expression changes. Switching tack, he sits beside his young charge, watching the THUNDERING falls.
RAMIREZ
You must fight. You must learn to keep your head. On you may depend the fate of mortal men.
MACLEOD
I don't care. i don't want it.
RAMIREZ
None of us chose it.
MACLEOD
Then how did it happen, for God's sake?
RAMIREZ
How does the sun know when to come up?
Ramirez points to SQUIRRELS CHATTERING under an oak.
RAMIREZ
Those squirrels all look alike.
MacLeod frowns.
RAMIREZ
But once in a while, one is born different. With blue eyes. And fur white as snow. Others of its kind try to destroy it or drive it away.
Flicking a bee off his pantaloons, he moves into the oak's shade.
The squirrels scamper away.
RAMIREZ
You must learn to conceal your special gift. To harness your power.
(a beat)
Until the time of the Gathering.
MACLEOD
What gathering?
RAMIREZ
Questions, questions. Too much talk.
Slicing the air with his Samurai, he waves MacLeod up.
MACLEOD
I'm not moving.
RAMIREZ
Then I'll cut you where you sit.
Wearily, MacLeod rises. The Spaniard advances, pounding MacLeod backwards.
RAMIREZ
It is said that when only a few of us are left, eons from now, we will feel an irresistible pull to a faraway land - to fight for the Prize.
CUT TO:
MORAN
Smoking a cigar at his desk in the squad-room. Before him, a copy of the New York Times. Headline: "HEAD-HUNTER STALKS NEW YORK"
Bedsoe slumps in a chair.
MORAN
(to Bedsoe)
You're sure it was Brenda?
BEDSOE
In Nash's shop. Talking to him.
MORAN
(half-smiling)
That ballsy broad. I never know what's going on with her.
(thinking)
What did she and Nash talk about? Did he say anything?
BEDSOE
Yeah. He asked me if I liked fish.
MORAN
Fish - ?
CUT TO:
MONTAGE - MACLEOD AND RAMIREZ FIGHTING
Various locations and times.
Slowly, MacLeod improves, gaining control - his blows, stronger, his coordination surer.
Ramirez is pleased.
HEATHER
Bartering for a flapping chicken in Jedburgh Market. In a group of SHOUTING WOMEN.
Bright sunshine. FLAGS and BANNERS CRACK in the wind off the sea.
Farmers sell cows and sheep. Crowds mill around. Open fires, Musicians and Hawkers.
MacLeod and Ramirez watch Heather. Ramirez holds onto his hat. He buys an apple, bitting into it.
Far up the valley, MacLeod's forge is a dot on the craggy mountainside.
RAMIREZ
You will have no family. We cannot have children.
A BAND PLAYS. Girls dance around a maypole. MacLeod lovingly watches Heather bag a SQUAWKING BIRD.
MACLEOD
That won't please Heather. I'll tell you that for nothing.
Ramirez shrugs. Heather holds up the sack.
HEATHER
(calling)
Here's dinner. Be off now. I fancy a new dress.
They watch a Juggler.
RAMIREZ
You must leave her, brother.
MacLeod scowls. The Juggler drops his balls in the swirling wind. The CROWD WHISTLES.
They arrive at a grassy arena. Huge men in kilts toss 40-foot cabers to the CHEERS of the crowd.
RAMIREZ
I was born 2,437 years ago. In that time, I have had three wives.
MacLeod tries to figure the man's age.
A Whore sashays past, skirts billowing, ogling Ramirez. Graciously, he bows to her.
RAMIREZ
The last was Shakiko, a Japanese princess.
(indicating Samurai)
Her father, Kamakura, a genius, made this for me in 593 B.C. It is the only one of its kind.
(remembering)
Like his daughter.
Drawing the Samurai, he tosses it to MacLeod, who catches it, testing its weight.
RAMIREZ
When Shakiko died, I was shattered. I would save you that pain. Please - let Heather go.
MACLEOD
She's my wife, man. I love her.
He sees her, gaily pushing through the crowd, ablaze with colored silks.
RAMIREZ
Then you will cause yourself great anguish. I buried Shakiko with my own hands.
(emotionally)
I had to go on, never again to hear the sound of her voice, her laughter. She left behind such a silence.
Heather flies into MacLeod's arms, kissing him, showing him the cloth.
HEATHER
D'you like it? Tell me true.
MACLEOD
(eyeing Ramirez)
Aye, blossom. It's fine.
Delighted, she dances around him, entwining him in the colored cloth.
CUT TO:
WIND-WHIPPED WAVES ON THE STORMY NORTH SEA
Off the Scottish coast. Cold sun. Seagulls on the wind. Mountains against cumulus.
Suddenly, on the shore:
A GIANT STAG WITH SHINING ANTLERS
Rears up in the gorse. Head high, still, it watches:
RAMIREZ AND MACLEOD WALKING ON THE BEACH
MacLeod's freezing to death.
RAMIREZ
Now for the last of our training.
The Spaniard points to the stag, shouting above the surf.
RAMIREZ
Trust me. Let your mind feel the stag. His blood. Coursing. His heart. Beating.
The SOUNDS OF THE TWO HEARTS POUND in his brain.
MACLEOD
(enthralled)
I feel him.
RAMIREZ
It is the Quickening. We are at one with all living things.
The stag bolts.
MacLeod's perception is forever changed. The highlands, the sea, the trees - they're like old friends he'll never see the same way again.
RAMIREZ
When we first met, you felt ill. Remember?
Shivering, MacLeod nods.
RAMIREZ
Did you ever feel that way before?
MACLEOD
Yes. When the MacLeods fought the Frazers, and a black knight ran me through. Only it was different, more painful.
Herons swoop low over the waves.
RAMIREZ
That black knight was the Kurgan. It is because of him that I sought you out.
(MacLeod blinks)
There is great power in the Quickening. But Nature has not given us equal shares. Some, like you and the Kurgan, have more.
MacLeod's ears are freezing.
RAMIREZ
And when one of us takes another's head, the victor becomes stronger.
They clamber through rocks, away from the angry sea.
CUT TO:
A DEEP-WATER POND SURROUNDED BY FERNS
Silent and old, under a dome of fir trees.
MacLeod and Ramirez sit on the bank.
Shedding his boots, yanking up his pantaloons, Ramirez steps gingerly into the pool, reacting to the cold.
MACLEOD
Who is the Kurgan? Where does he come from?
RAMIREZ
The Kurgans were an ancient people from the steppes of Russia. For amusement, they tossed children into pits with hungry dogs to fight for meat.
In the trees above, a blue jay arrives home with food for hungry mouths.
RAMIREZ
I have fought the Kurgan 3 times. In Babylon, Greece and China.
He skips out of the water, drying his feet.
RAMIREZ
The last time, I was lucky to get away with my head.
(replacing boots)
The Kurgan is the strongest of all immortals. He is the perfect warrior.
MacLeod shudders.
RAMIREZ
He cares about nothing or no-one. He is completely evil.
(intensely)
If he wins the Prize, mortal men will suffer an eternity of darkness and slavery beneath his boot.
MACLEOD
How do you fight such a savage?
RAMIREZ
With heart, faith and steel.
CUT TO:
RAMIREZ AND MACLEOD ON A WOODLAND PATH
Above them, sunset changes green to gold. Ramirez draws his Samurai.
RAMIREZ
Now. Let us see what kind of swordsman you have become. On guard, pendejo.
MacLeod's already moving, claymore spinning. He feints. Ramirez ducks.
Off-balance, the Spaniard retreats, warding off deadlythrusts.
RAMIREZ
In the end, there can be only one.
(swinging)
It is the Prize for which we all struggle. The Kurgan must never win it. Alone, I cannot stop him.
(retreating)
You may have a chance.
Sure-footed, MacLeod tracks him through fallen timber.
MACLEOD
If it came down to just us two, would you take my head?
Ramirez doesn't answer. MacLeod leaps forward, claymore a WHISTLING RAZOR.
Ramirez parries, but it's no good. The student has become the master.
Losing his balance, Ramirez topples into a gully. MacLeod's on him in a second, blade against his throat.
Breath rasping, they hold each other's gaze in green twilight. An eternity passes, then:
MacLeod throws his sword away.
Reaching out.
MACLEOD
Give me your hand, brother.
Ramirez smiles. His work done. MacLeod hauls him up.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD STRIDING THROUGH CENTRAL PARK
Skaters on the ice. Kids fight with wooden swords in Sheep Meadow.
Behind him, trying to look inconspicuous, the faithful Bedsoe dogs his tracks.
Ahead in the trees. MacLeod sees:
SUNDA KASTAGIR
An elegant black African in blue-gold robes, head crowned with an ermine-trimmed cap.
Standing on a stone bridge over the lake, he feeds bread to the ducks.
MacLeod joins him, locking eyes with the African. They're both tense, ready for anything.
Unexpectedly, Kastagir grins wall-to-wall teeth, grabbing MacLeod in a huge bear-hug.
KASTAGIR
MacLeod. It's good to see you. Seems like a hundred years.
MACLEOD
(chuckling)
It has been a hundred years.
Kastagir LAUGHS, removing a flask from his robe, offering it to MacLeod.
KASTAGIR
A little something to put hair on your chest?
MACLEOD
(suspiciously)
What is it?
KASTAGIR
Boom-Boom.
MacLeod sniffs the open flask. It's a head-winder. The African appraises him critically.
KASTAGIR
You've become so strong, MacLeod. Surely, you're not afraid of a little Boom-Boom.
(twirling eyebrows)
Do you think I'm trying to poison you?
They LAUGH. MacLeod drinks. Retrieving the flask, the African takes a long swig.
MACLEOD
You're crazy, Kastagir. You always were.
KASTAGIR
(offering flask)
Have some more.
MacLeod drinks. Kastagir feeds the ducks.
KASTAGIR
The Gathering is here. Time has almost caught us, my friend.
MACLEOD
(grinning)
Has it? Do you think we should go on?
KASTAGIR
I think we should have a party.
They take off across the park. Bedsoe emerges from bushes, following them.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD AND KASTAGIR IN THE DUG-OUT BAR
A steel-&-neon Village hang-out. Sawdust on the floor. It's late.
They're drinking and talking, glancing over at:
Bedsoe, alone in a nearby booth, spying on them from behind a New York Post.
Unexpectedly, MacLeod and Kastagir appear at his table, sitting down.
MACLEOD
Mind if we join you?
Bedsoe folds his paper, gathering his wits.
His cover's blown, but this might just be the opportunity he's been waiting for. He decides to play along.
MACLEOD
Sundra Kastagir, meet -
(to Bedsoe)
What's your name?
BEDSOE
Bedsoe.
MACLEOD
He's a cop. He questioned me after Fasil lost his head. He's trying to pin a murder on me.
(winking)
If I'm guilty, they'll give me the death penalty.
They ROAR with laughter. Bedsoe's eyes narrow. He makes mental notes. A WAITRESS in pirate costume appears.
WAITRESS
(to Bedsoe)
Want anything?
BEDSOE
I'll have what they're having.
KASTAGIR
(booming)
Bring more.
She leaves.
MONTAGE - THE PARTY
The waitress brings endless rounds of drinks. Amidst LAUGHTER, the trio gets drunk.
Bedsoe starts having fun, finally going to work on Kastagir's flask of Boom-Boom.
MACLEOD, KASTAGIR & BEDSOE
Completely potted. Their table is a forest of bottles.
KASTAGIR
(to MacLeod)
D'you remember the night Washington lost his teeth at Valley Forge?
BEDSOE
(to Kastagir)
I was in Washington once.
MACLEOD
(answering Kastagir)
Freezing our asses off, crawling around in the snow looking for a set of wooden dentures.
BEDSOE
(to MacLeod)
Which Washington are we talking about?
KASTAGIR
Ever fight a duel, Bedstead?
BEDSOE
Bedsoe.
KASTAGIR
Me, neither.
(indicating MacLeod)
He has.
Bedsoe tries to focus on MacLeod.
MACLEOD
It was in 1797. I was using the name Adrian Montagu. I insulted the wife of a pompous Boston lawyer named Bassett. Hotchkiss, his second, dragged me to Beacon Common. I was very drunk.
BEDSOE
(dazed)
1797 - ?
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Red-eyed, dishevelled and weaving.
MACLEOD (O.S.)
Bassett chose rapiers at dawn.
BASSETT, a corpulent, ferret-faced lawyer, tests blades under a tree. Horses graze nearby.
HOTCHKISS, a tall, lantern-jawed toadt, brushes his master's coat.
HOTCHKISS
The heavier blade, Mr. Bassett, I implore you.
BASSETT
You are my second, Hotchkiss. I am fighting this duel. Not you.
He watches MacLeod trying to kill a bush.
BASSETT
See if the imbecile is ready.
Rocketing over the grass, Hotchkiss keeps clear of MacLeod's unpredictable thrusts.
HOTCHKISS
Mr. Bassett is waiting, sir.
MacLeod whips around, almost dislocating his neck.
MACLEOD
I'm Bontagu. Not Massett.
His wig slides over his eyes.
MACLEOD
Christ, I've gone blind.
BASSETT
(advancing)
On guard, sir.
Hotchkiss waits for the kill. MacLeod can't see.
Bassett runs him through.
Bassett sees it's finished. Hotchkiss kisses his master, escorting him to his horse.
Wound healing, head aching, MacLeod staggers up.
MACLEOD
(slurring)
Bassett. Is that you?
Dumbstruck, they wheel. He's waving at them.
HOTCHKISS
You missed him, Mr. Bassett.
BASSETT
I did not miss him, you idiot. I ran him through.
MacLeod blinks at his sword, wondering what it is.
HOTCHKISS
He is still standing, sir.
Shoving Hotchkiss aside, Bassett lunges, running MacLeod through again. MacLeod falls down.
MACLEOD (O.S.)
Bassett kept running me through. I'd fall down.
More frenzied attempts by Bassett, each time receiving kisses from Hotchkiss.
MACLEOD (O.S.)
Hotchkiss would embrace Bassett. They'd head for their horses. I'd stagger up.
Eyes zooming, MacLeod rocks on his heels.
Bassett thinks it's a nightmare. Hotchkiss shoves a pistol into his hand.
HOTCHKISS
(screeching)
Shoot him! Shoot him in the head!
Finally, grasping what's happening, MacLeod raises his hand.
MACLEOD
Stop, sir. I beseech you.
Bassett tries to cock the gun, Hotchkiss urging him on.
MACLEOD
I apologize, Mr. Bassett, for calling your wife a bloated warthog.
(unsteady)
I trust honor has been satisfied, and bid you good day.
He staggers off into the mist. Hotchkiss tries to wrench the gun from Bassett.
HOTCHKISS
Let me do it. You botched the whole thing.
Wrestling it from him, Bassett wheels in circles, looking for someone to kill.
Suspecting it will be he, Hotchkiss flees. Bassett raises the pistol and FIRES.
CUT TO:
KASTAGIR
Howling with LAUGHTER in the Dug-Out Bar. Zooming, Bedsoe staggers up, knocking over bottles.
BEDSOE
(slurring)
I wanna thank -
He blinks at them. He can't remember anybody's name. HICCUPING, he weaves off, MUMBLING.
BEDSOE
Wonderful evening...
No one notices he's gone. The pirate-waitress looms over the table, Kastagir and MacLeod squint up at her.
Imagining they're in another century, they adopt Long John Silver voices.
KASTAGIR
Avast, ye bonny wench.
MACLEOD
Bring us two barrels of scurvy and a bucket of cleats.
WAITRESS
Okay, that's it, guys. You're history.
She's right. The party's over.
CUT TO:
KASTAGIR AND MACLEOD
On swings in a children's playground at dawn, rocking back and forth. Both men are sober.
A bitter wind tosses newspaper, swirls leaves. Skyscrapers blaze in the rising sun.
MACLEOD
There are 3 of us left. You, me and the Kurgan.
KASTAGIR
Are you suggesting we join forces against him?
MacLeod watches a JOGGER flounder by.
KASTAGIR
Ramirez filled your head with nonsense. Sooner or later. you and I would have to fight.
(beat)
Nothing personal. I've always liked you, actually.
He points a finger at MacLeod, pulling an imaginary trigger.
KASTAGIR
Boom-Boom.
MacLeod gets up and walks away. Kastagir swings in the wind.
CUT TO:
RAMIREZ AND HEATHER
Having lunch in the MacLeod home. A WOODEN STAIRCASE runs from ground to 3rd floor.
Unexpectedly, Ramirez's body jolts violently. His face contorts, voice strangled.
RAMIREZ
Run, Heather - !
Suddenly, the front door EXPLODES, splintering in fragments. Sword in hand, eyes burning, the Kurgan surges in.
Heather races back. Ramirez dives for his sword on the table. The Kurgan swings, barely missing Ramirez, chopping the table in two.
Ramirez counters, his Samurai slicing the Kurgan's throat, severing his vocal chords.
GARGLING in fury, the Kurgan clutches his neck. Warding off the Spaniard's attack, he reels backward up the stairs.
CUT TO:
RAMIREZ AND THE KURGAN
Fighting on the staircase. Savage forces are unleashed. Sparks fly from CLANGING blades. Outside, THUNDER CRACKS overhead.
Despite his wound, the Kurgan fights like a mad dog. Ramirez loses ground.
The stone house is reduced to rubble. All that remains is one wall and the staircase rising to nowhere.
Outmatched, Ramirez retreats up the stairs. Unstoppable, the Kurgan follows.
HEATHER
Paralyzed with fear, crouches by a wall, watching the desperate battle - Ramirez and the wounded giant silhouetted against an electric sky.
RAMIREZ AND THE KURGAN
Hanging in space at the top of the stairs. Ramirez can retreat no further. The Kurgan runs him through. LIGHTNING sears the sky.
Gasping, the Spaniard sags to his knees, sword falling thre stories to the ground. Below, Heather SCREAMS.
Ramirez tries to rise. The Kurgan grabs his hair, pulling him close.
KURGAN
The Highlander. Where is he?
Ramirez's blade has turned the Kurgan's voice to a METALLIC GARGLE.
RAMIREZ
You're too late. I have prepared him for you.
KURGAN
You waste your time. He is nothing.
(indicates Heather)
Who is the woman?
RAMIREZ
She's mine.
KURGAN
Not for much longer.
RAMIREZ
I can't hear you, Kurgan. What's wrong with your voice?
Ramirez SPITS in his face. The Kurgan goes mad, raising his weapon.
KURGAN
There can be only one.
He cuts off Ramirez's head. A SHIMMERING CLOUD engulfs him.
He kicks the corpse off the stairs. Turning, he stares down at Heather shivering by the wall. His pitiless eyes burn into her.
The next second, the remaining wall gives way, taking the staircase with it. Surprised, the Kurgan disappears under a mass of timber and stone.
Deathly stillness. Clouds cast a pall over the ruins.
Cautiously, Heather inches forward, staring down at the debris, trying to comprehend what's happened. Suddenly:
THE KURGAN'S HEAD ROCKETS OUT OF THE RUBBLE
Grabbing her by the throat. She SCREAMS. He RISES.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
In his silver room, studying Ramirez's hat in the glass case. Rachel enters, standing behind him. MacLeod doesn't move.
MACLEOD
What are you looking at?
RACHEL
The eyes in the back of your head.
Rising, he heads for the door. Rachel follows him.
RACHEL
People are asking about you. What am I supposed to say?
MACLEOD
Tell them I'm immortal.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
In an overcoat, carrying a wrapped gift, walking through his closed antique shop, followed by Rachel.
RACHEL
Would you listen to me for one moment, please?
(he nods)
You can't hide your feelings from me. I've known you too long.
MACLEOD
What feelings?
RACHEL
How about loneliness?
He conceals his true reaction.
MACLEOD
I'm not lonely. I've got everything I need, right here.
RACHEL
No, you don't. You refuse to let anyone love you.
MACLEOD
Love is for poets. I have other things to do.
(kissing her forehead)
You're such a romantic, Rachel. You always were.
CUT TO:
BEDSOE ON STAKE-OUT
Parked outside a building in Murray Hill, still suffering from his evening in the Dug-Out Bar. His head's killing him, he's got the shakes and he needs a shave.
Balancing a cup of coffee, he tries to work an Alka-Seltzer into a container of water, inadvertently hitting the horn with his elbow. It BLARES.
Grabbing his temples, he drops the water, spilling scalding coffee into his groin.
BEDSOE
Oh, shit...
Unnoticed, MacLeod enters the building.
CUT TO:
BRENDA
In bra and panties in her bedroom.
Finishing make-up, brushing her hair. Nervous, she slips into a sexy dress and boots, studying the effect from different angles.
Adjusting her hair, she adds a lizard belt, clinching it tight around her narrow waist.
Satisfied, she walks out into:
A glass and chrome living room.
Dinner set for two. Agitated, she opens the table-drawer. Inside: A pistol.
She cracks it open. It's loaded.
Replacing it, she opens a cabinet. A hidden tape-recorder is set to go.
BUZZER. It's the front door.
Starting the recorder, she shuts the cabinet, takes a breath, and opens the door.
It's Russell Nash.
In suit, tie and overcoat, with gift-wrapped package and bottle.
MACLEOD
Good evening, Miss Wyatt.
He smiles warmly. Those eyes again, fixed on her. She forgets everything.
MACLEOD
You want to dine in the hall, or shall we step inside?
BRENDA
(blinking)
Come on in.
For a second, they're very close. Her heart pounds.
BRENDA
May I take your coat?
MACLEOD
No, thanks. I'll hold onto it.
Flushed, she can't think what to say. Impulsively, she heads for the bedroom.
MACLEOD
Where are you going?
BRENDA
I'll be right back. The glasses are over there.
Putting his gift on the coffee-table, he takes off his coat, glancing around.
IN THE BEDROOM
She stares at her rigid image in the mirror.
MACLEOD (O.S.)
I like your place, Brenda.
(a beat)
You never told me what it is you do for a living.
Her face goes white.
BRENDA
(into mirror)
Do you know what you're doing?
Mind racing, she improvises.
BRENDA
I...
(closing eyes)
I work for the Metropolitan Museum -
She tries to calm down. What has she gotten herself into?
IN THE LIVING ROOM
MacLeod spots Bedsoe through the blinds.
BRENDA (O.S.)
In Acquisitions.
Covering the room like a cat, he checks the table-drawer, sees the pistol.
MACLEOD
That explains your interest in ancient weapons.
He finds the recorder in the cabinet.
BRENDA (O.S.)
Yes. Particularly the Samurai.
Opening the bottle, he sits on the sofa.
Brenda enters, joining him, feeling more confident, smoothing her skirt over her thighs. He fills glasses, handing her one.
BRENDA
Shall we have a toast?
He thinks for a moment.
MACLEOD
Yes.
(raising glass)
To the child going to bed,
And the man on the stairs
Who climbs to his dying love
In her high room.
(she's transfixed)
And let us hope tonight
He shall find no dying,
But his love alive and warm.
BRENDA
That's beautiful. What is it?
The CLINK GLASSES.
MACLEOD
Dylan Thomas.
They drink. She blinks as it hits her throat. She likes it.
MACLEOD
Brandy. Bottled in 1783.
BRENDA
Jesus. That's old.
MACLEOD
1783 was a very good year. Mozart wrote his Great Mass. The Montgolfier brothers went up in the first hot-air balloon. And England recognized the independence of the United States.
BRENDA
Is that right?
Who is this guy who fights scarred giants, drinks 200-year-old brandy and has a antique shop on Hudson Street?
He seems to be staring into her soul, seducing her in erotic, unfamiliar ways.
She notices the package.
BRENDA
What's that?
MACLEOD
It's for you.
BRENDA
Can I open it?
MACLEOD
If you like.
She picks it up and rips off the gift-wrap, staring down at:
"A
METALURGICAL HISTORY
OF
ANCIENT SWORD-MAKING
BY
BRENDA J. WYATT"
The blood drains from her face.
BRENDA
You Bastard
MACLEOD
Odd thing.
(indicating book)
Your bio doesn't mention the Met. It says you work for the police in Forensics.
(she's stunned)
Are you and Moran trying to set me up?
Angry, she rises, moving away.
BRENDA
I don't work for Moran.
MACLEOD
Then why's that fat policeman sitting outside, watching your apartment?
She peers through the blinds, seeing Bedsoe in the car.
MACLEOD
You remember him. Moran's had him tailing me.
She sits close to the table containing the pistol. He refills his glass. The silence is deadly.
BRENDA
What are you going to do?
MACLEOD
The question is, what are you going to do?
(she frowns)
Are you going to turn off the tape or are you going to shoot me with the .38?
BRENDA
You're really something.
Crossing to the recorder, she rips out the tape. Removing the pistol, she empties it, tossing it away.
BRENDA
I'm not looking for a killer. I'm looking for a sword
(pause)
The one used on Fasil. I found pieces of it under the Garden.
He stands, getting ready to leave. She blocks his way
BRENDA
I only want to see the Samurai.
MACLEOD
Why?
BRENDA
I told you. It's not supposed to exist.
Picking up the shards, she waves them in his face.
BRENDA
I dated these pieces of the blade at 600 B.C. The metal's been folded over 200 times.
(tapping shards)
The Japanese didn't start making swords that way until the Middle Ages.
Her eyes are alight.
BRENDA
So where the hell did it come from?
He glances at the shards. Her energy is uncompromising.
BRENDA
If I could verify the existence of such a weapon, it'd be like finding a 747 made a thousand years before the Wright brothers flew.
(drolly)
With a find like that, I could get on "Good Morning America".
MACLEOD
This is crazy.
Ignoring her, he heads for the door. Furious, she spins him around.
Face-to-face, he can smell her perfume. It's driving him crazy.
BRENDA
I want some straight answers, Nash.
MACLEOD
Don't you ever think about anything except what you want?
Before he can stop himself, he's got a handful of her hair, pulling her mouth onto his, kissing her passionately.
She struggles. Releasing her, he touches her cheek, then leaves.
Breathless, Brenda sits on the couch. The front door SLAMS.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Descending a rear stairwell, FOOTSTEPS ECHOING off the concrete. He stops on a landing, shutting his eyes.
MONTAGE: HEATHER GROWING OLD
MacLeod and Heather leave Jedburgh and move east, settling on a farm outside Montrose.
Years become decades. She changes. Her youth fades. MacLeod is with her constantly.
Breathing her last, she lies in his arms, clutching a sheepskin doll. She strokes his ageless cheek.
HEATHER
My beautiful man. My husband.
MACLEOD
I am that, my love.
Her eyes fill with tears. MacLeod fights for control, smoothing her hair.
HEATHER
I have never... really known.
MACLEOD
What?
HEATHER
Why you stayed.
MACLEOD
Because I love you as much now as the day I first met you.
HEATHER
And I love you.
Crying, she turns away. Tormented, he cradles her head, holding her tight.
HEATHER
I don't want to die. I want to stay with you forever.
MACLEOD
I want that, too.
HEATHER
Will you do something for me, Conner?
MACLEOD
What, blossom?
HEATHER
In years to come, will you light a candle and remember me on my birthday?
MACLEOD
Aye, love. I will.
HEATHER
I wanted to have your children.
She collapses, clinging to him.
MACLEOD
(huskily)
They would have been strong and fine.
HEATHER
(struggling)
Don't see me, Conner. Let me die in peace.
Heart breaking, he rocks her. Breathing faster, she closes her eyes.
HEATHER
Where are we?
MACLEOD
We're in the Highlands. Where else? Running down a mountain-side.
She smiles, young again.
MACLEOD
The sun's shining. It's not cold. We'll swim in the loch, maybe.
She fades.
MACLEOD
You've got your sheepskins on. And the boots I made for you.
She dies. He squeezes her tighter, blinking back tears.
MACLEOD
When I met you at the fair, you said: "You're all muck and muscle." Then you smiled. What a beauty.
Grief overwhelms him. Lowering her gently, he closes her eyes, taking the doll from her hand. He kisses her cheek.
MACLEOD
Good night, my bonnie Heather. You were always beautiful to me.
He sobs.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Laying Heather to rest at sunset on a hill above the farm. His horse stands under a tree.
Drawing his claymore, he sinks it deep into the earth, marking Heather's grave.
He buckles on Ramirez's Samurai, eyes raking the heavens.
MACLEOD
You were right, haggis. There will never be another.
Grimly, he leads his horse down the mountain.
Left behind, his claymore. Carved into the blade, glowing in the dying sun, the name: "MACLEOD"
CUT TO:
MACLEOD IN HIS NEW YORK LOFT
Surrounded by his past. Everywhere he looks, objects remind him of distant places and times, intensifying his painful isolation.
VOICES and SOUNDS scramble his brain, gathering in volume:
OVERLAPPING VOICES
My beautiful man. My husband -
(cheering crowd)
Lotta fun, ain't it - ?
(cannon-fire)
Devil! Devil - !
(police sirens)
Head chopped off two nights ago -
(horns blaring)
600 B.C. It's not supposed to exist -
(a baby crying)
Tell them I'm immortal -
(pipes and drums)
There can be only one - !
The pressure's too much. BELLOWING, MacLeod erupts.
Picking up a vase, he spins round in fury, flinging it against a wall. It SHATTERS in a million pieces.
MONTAGE
The same frustration vented bacward through the centuries. The vast today, marble statue in 1880, a wine bottle at a French castle wall, the beer glass at his attackers in the Scottish tavern.
GLASS FRAGMENTS RING IN THE STILLNESS
Falling to the floor. MacLeod struggles to control his feelings. Sitting down on a couch, he stares out of the window. His hands are shaking.
CUT TO:
MORAN AND BEDSOE MUNCHING BURGERS AT TONY'S
A stand at 59th & Lexington. Around them, crowds, traffic jams, BLARING HORNS.
TONY, the huge owner, in apron and baseball cap, eats coleslaw, checking the News headline: "HEAD HUNTER 3 - COPS ZERO"
TONY
Hey, Moran. Have you read what it says here?
MORAN
Come on, Tony. You know cops can't read.
TONY
(checks story)
What does "incompetent" mean?
Tony cackles. Moran chews burger, eyeing Bedsoe.
MORAN
The damn Mayor's calling my apartment at two in the morning.
Bedsoe sympathizes. They finish up, getting into a green Dodge. Bedsoe FIRES THE ENGINE.
TONY
(re: paper)
Hey, Moran. What does "baffled" mean?
The Dodge PEELS OFF into traffic.
CUT TO:
MORAN
Talking to Rachel in the antique shop.
She's at her desk. He strolls about, looking things over. He makes her nervous.
MORAN
You do see him every once in a while?
RACHEL
Rarely.
MORAN
How do you reach him?
RACHEL
I don't.
He sits across from her.
MORAN
He kind-of keeps you in the dark, right?
(a beat)
Alright, Miss - or is it Mrs.?
RACHEL
Miss. Rachel Ellenstein. Why?
MORAN
Just curious. I'm a bachelor myself.
(rising)
If you see Nash, have him call me, okay?
RACHEL
Okay, Sergeant.
MORAN
(smiles)
Lieutenant.
He leaves.
CUT TO:
BRENDA READING "CERTIFICATES OF BIRTH, 1941-48"
In the Hall of Records. She finds a photostat:
"RUSSELL EDWIN NASH
BORN: 11.17 A.M. OCTOBER 22nd, 1945
MERCY HOSPITAL, SYRACUSE, NEW YORK
TO: KAREN JOAN NASH
ATTENDING PHYSICIAN:
DR. W.B. KADELL"
CUT TO:
DR. WILLIS KADELL
82, thumbing through files in his cluttered study. Brenda sits on a sofa. He's never seen legs like hers.
KADELL
(finds file)
Here we go. Karen Joan Nash.
(reading)
Yes, I remember this one. I was practicing in Syracuse. Didn't get many of these.
BRENDA
What?
KADELL
Unwed mothers.
(checks her legs again)
Nowadays that's no big deal. Back then in Syracuse it was a stoning offense.
He CHUCKLES, spinning his eyebrows.
BRENDA
What happened?
KADELL
She had the baby. Then she died.
BRENDA
So Nash was illegitimate?
KADELL
Yeah, he was illegitimate. For about a minute-and-a-half. He died right after she did.
BRENDA
(stunned)
He died?
CUT TO:
BRENDA
Getting out of a cab at 42nd and 5th, dressed in coat, fur hat, gloves and scarf.
Moving through lunchtime crowds, she walks up the steps to the Public Libary.
CUT TO:
ERIK POWELL
Seated at his computer-console. He's the Chief Archivist, New York State.
Macho, gay, short-hair, moustache and tattoos. Before him, two display screens.
Brenda perches on a stool at his elbow, coat, hat and scarf over her arm.
ERIK
I did what you asked, Brenda. And do I have something weird.
BRENDA
What?
ERIK
The computer will display certain documents on micro-film.
(indicating 2nd screen)
They'll pop up there.
BRENDA
Erik, what's weird?
ERIK
(punches data)
This guy Nash's signature. He's the legal owner of the property on Hudson Street.
BRENDA
I know that.
ERIK
(touchy)
He could have been renting. Or leasing. You don't know.
Brenda sighs. Talking to Erik is a pain in the ass.
A document appears on the 2nd screen.
ERIK
Okay, here we go. This is the original deed to the Hudson Street property. Dated 1796. Look at that signature.
On screen, a dramatic scrawl: "ADRIAN MONTAGU"
BRENDA
Who's Adrian Montagu?
ERIK
The first owner of Hudon Street.
(checks print-out)
An English immigrant.
Freezing, Brenda puts her coat back on.
BRENDA
Can we cut to the chase, Erik?
ERIK
(ruffled)
I'm taking you through a process here, Brenda. I spent hours on this. Okay?
Brenda shivers in the cold.
ERIK
Adrian Montagu left his property to Hamilton Kopp.
(cracking knuckles)
Even in the old days, if somebody left you something, you had to sign a receipt.
New program. On the 2nd screen, a receipt signed: "HAMILTON KOPP"
ERIK
This shows that Kopp actually received Montagu's inheritance.
(enjoying himself)
Check out Kopp's signature. Familiar?
BRENDA
It looks a little like the first guy's - Montagu.
ERIK
Brilliant.
He returns to the console.
ERIK
The next thing I did was see if I could find a Hamilton Kopp who died at birth some time before the receipt was signed by Montagu.
BRENDA
Why?
ERIK
Logical minds search for connections.
(taps forehead)
I've got a logical mind. The Nash kid died at birth, right?
She nods. On screen, a DEATH CERTIFICATE for HAMILTON KOPP.
ERIK
Here we go. Hamilton Kopp. Born, January 16th, 1819. Died at birth - 20 years before he allegedly signed the receipt inheriting Hudson Street from Montagu.
BRENDA
It's a coincidence. It's got to be a different Kopp.
ERIK
(grinning)
Thin so? Watch this.
(programs new stuff)
Kopp died and left his wordly goods to one Alfred Burgess.
On-screen, a receipt signed: "ALFRED BURGESS"
ERIK
Burgess left his possessions to Wallingford Benoit.
On-screen, a receipt signed: "WALLINGTON BENOIT"
ERIK
And Benoit left his stuff to your guy. Russell Nash.
On-screen, a receipt signed "RUSSELL NASH". Erik swivels in his chair. Brenda puts on her gloves.
ERIK
In all five instances, Montagu through Nash, I found a death certificate for a kid with the same name, who died at birth - years before he pretended to sign for his inheritance.
(eyeing her)
Still think it's a coincidence?
She replaces her fur hat. She's never been so cold.
BRENDA
Erik, isn't there any heat in here?
ERIK
No. Heat's bad for the circuits.
(taps more keys)
And now, just in case there's any doubt.
On-screen, Brenda examines five magnified signatures.
"ADRIAN MONTAGU
HAMILTON KOPP
ALFRED BURGESS
WALLINGFORD BENOIT
RUSSELL NASH"
Erik runs another program, overlaying individual letters from the combined signatures - T's on T's, N's over N's, etc.
They're identical.
Dramatically, he spins around on his chair.
ERIK
So what you got here, Brenda is a guy who's been creeping around since at least 1700. Pretending to croak every once in a while, leaving all his possessions to kids who've been corpses for years - and assuming their identities.
BRENDA
It's not possible.
CUT TO:
KENNY WATCHING TV NEWS
In the Ansonia lobby. Derelicts snore in harmony.
NEWSCASTER
Public outrage mounts this hour as New York's finest seem powerless to stop the Head-Hunter. The Kurgan leaves the elevator. Carrying his oblong case, crossing the lobby. It's late.
KENNY
(seeing him)
Hey Rockefeller. How did you like Candy? She said you were kinda kinky.
The Kurgan stops, staring at him.
KENNY
You watch your ass out there.
(cackling)
Don't let the Head-Hunter getcha!
The Kurgan walks up to him, inches from his face. Kenny stares into eyes that are a vision of Hell.
THE KURGAN
(rasping)
Don't speak to me.
KENNY
I didn't mean -
THE KURGAN
Don't ever speak to me. Do you understand?
He understands. The Kurgan leaves, Kenny staring after him.
KENNY
Hope you get your head chopped off, asshole.
CUT TO:
KIRK MATUNAS
Driving 23rd in a souped-up Mustang.
He's wiry, in fatigues, T-shirt, forage-cap and boots. Headlights reflect in his sunglasses.
Gun magazines on the seat, assault weapons in the back, Uzi machine-pistol on the dash. Nobody's gonna mug this sucker.
MATUNAS
(singing)
Oh, she jumped in bed, And she covered her head, Bet I couldn't find her.
He turns down 2nd Avenue, gathering speed.
MATUNAS
(continuing; singing)
Oh, her titties were pink as a red rooster's -
He brakes suddenly, revving back, fishtailing to a halt, staring down an alley.
A black guy and a white guy battle with swords.
Matunas grabs the Uzi, springing into action.
CUT TO:
THE KURGAN AND KASTAGIR IN THE ALLEY
Fighting savegely. Matunas appears, thunderstruck.
MATUNAS
(shouting)
What the hell's going on?
They continue hammering at each other. Matunas slams a clip into the Uzi, taking aim.
Horrified, he sees the white guy decapitate the black guy.
Matunas starts FIRING.
Five slugs tear into the white guy's chest, flinging him against a fence. He falls. Matunas disappears down the alley.
CUT TO:
A SMALL CROWD GATHERS
On 2nd Avenue. A vintage Chevy pulls up at the curb, ENGINE RUNNING. Inside, an OLD COUPLE try to see what's going on.
MATUNAS
Creeps down the dark alley. He checks the black guy. He's a goner.
Suddenly, the white guy he shot lunges with a sword, driving the blade into Matuna's stomach. SCREAMING, he falls, dropping his Uzi.
Ignoring him, the Kurgan hunches over Kastagir's body. Matunas sees weird things happen:
CUT TO:
THE CROWD
On 2nd Avenue freaks. STREET-LIGHTS DIM. WINDOWS EXPLODE in buildings. NEON SIGNS ERUPT. MANHOLE COVERS BLAST skyward.
Riddled with bullet-holes, the Kurgan staggers out of the alley, CURSING, wielding his sword. The crowd scatters in terror.
Hearing distant SIRENS, the Kurgan looks for a ride, spotting the Chevy on the curb.
Bellowing, he charges, sword swinging, opening the Chevy's roof like a tin can.
Prying it open with his bare hands, he sees the old couple staring up at what used to be their roof. The next second, they're airborne, hurled to the sidewalk.
Leaping inside, the Kurgan takes off. Tires SHRIEKING, roof flapping, he hurtles away down 2nd Avenue.
MORAN AND BEDSOE ENTERING BELLEVUE HOSPITAL
Shoving REPORTERS aside.
REPORTERS (V.O)
(shouting)
Did he see the Head-Hunter? What's the victim's name? Come on, Moran!
CUT TO:
MORAN AND BEDSOE IN AN ASCENDING ELEVATOR
Watching floor numbers.
BEDSOE
Frank, I saw the corpse. The black guy was the same dude who was with Nash. I spent the night with them, for Christ's sake.
MORAN
Right. Drunk out of your skull.
Embarrassed, Bedsoe checks his shoes. Moran gets a cigar going.
MORAN
20 people were there and nobody saw a goddamn thing.
(a beat)
That's New York for you.
(lights cigar)
So tell me about this guy Matunas. Is he on drugs?
BEDSOE
No. Some kind of survival nut.
MORAN
Survival nut?
BEDSOE
Yeah. Into guns. Former Marine. Vietnam. I checked with his ex-CO. Slightly paranoid, but definitely reliable.
CUT TO:
MATUNAS
Propped up in bed, abdomen bandaged.
Tube in his arm. Moran and Bedsoe enter.
MORAN
How're you doing, kid?
MATUNAS
Okay, I guess - for a guy who got three feet of steel crammed up his ass. How're you doin', old man?
MORAN
Walt says you got a look at the guy who stuck you, right?
MATUNAS
Are you kiddin', man?
Moran shows him a shot of MacLeod.
MORAN
This him?
MATUNAS
Nope.
MORAN
Come on, Matunas. It was dark in that alley.
MATUNAS
(screeching)
The freak was stabbing me to death. I'll never forget his face. He had a scar right across his throat.
(re: photo)
And that ain't him.
Moran sags onto the bed.
MATUNAS
Depressed?
Moran shrugs.
MATUNAS
You don't know grunt about depressed.
(sits up painfully)
I got me a .357, a trunkful of shotguns, three big-bore battle rifles and ammo out the ass. I can't protect myself.
(shouting)
I ain't safe - !
(wincing)
That weirdo with the sword, man. He got up and stabbed me after I put enough lead in him to drop a rhino.
(collapsing)
Don't talk to me about depressed.
Moran rises wearily.
MORAN
Could you work with an artist and come up with a picture of the guy?
MATUNAS
Sure.
Moran and Bedsoe head for the door.
MATUNAS
Hey, cop.
Moran turns.
MATUNAS
I know you think I'm nuts. But there's something else I gotta tell you.
CUT TO:
MORAN AND BEDSOE HEADING FOR THE EXIT
Reporters clamor outside.
MORAN
(seeing pres)
Just say we got an eyewitness. That's it. Nothing about sword-fights in the 20th Century.
(jabs Bedsoe's chest)
Guys glowing in the dark. Or soldiers crawling around in the snow at Valley Forge, looking for Washington's wooden teeth. Got it, Walt?
They walk into the uproar.
CUT TO:
A NEWS VENDOR AT 57TH AND 7TH
Rush-hour crowds buy The Post. A composite of the Kurgan is front page.
NEWS VENDOR
(shouting)
Extra! Cops release Head-Hunter picture. Head-Hunter revealed.
Headline: "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?"
CUT TO:
MACLEOD
Lighting candles in St. Patrick's Cathedral.
Beside the altar. Soaring columns, stained-glass windows. People pray. Priests glide about.
MACLEOD
(1st candle)
For you, my bonnie Heather. Happy birthday.
(lights 2nd)
And you, Juan Ramirez.
(remembering)
Take care of her, you overdressed haggis.
Moving to an empty pew, he sits silently, lost in the past.
In front of him, the candles blur. The ceiling starts to spin. Turning, MacLeod see the Kurgan beside him in the pew.
He's become a punk-rocker, straightened his hair, dyed it orange, and put on make-up.
A line of safety-pins dangle from the scar across his throat. His mocking eyes roam the church.
KURGAN
Kastagir is gone. Only you and I remain. Chatting together here on holy ground.
He leers.
MACLEOD
You're revolting. What d'you think this is - Hallowe'en?
KURGAN
I am disguised. This way people will not recognize me.
MACLEOD
What do you want?
KURGAN
Your head.
MacLeod is a coiled spring. TWO MATRONS cross themselves, heading down the aisle.
KURGAN
And the Prize.
(the matrons pass by)
Happy Hallowe'en ladies!
Scared witless, they leave.
KURGAN
It was destined that the board would be cleared for the real players.
MACLEOD
I feel something coming from you. You're trying to conceal it from me. What is it?
KURGAN
I conceal nothing.
MacLeod's glittering eyes fix on the Kurgan's safety-pinned throat-scar.
MACLEOD
Ramirez's blade did not cut deeply enough. He was right about you. You're slime.
KURGAN
(harshly)
Ramirez was an effete snob. He died on his knees.
Gloating, he remembers:
CUT TO:
THE KURGAN
Clutching Heather's neck, rising up from the ruins of MacLeod's 16th century stone house. SCREAMING, she tries to break free of his grip. It's hopeless.
KURGAN (V.O.)
I took his head and raped his woman before his body was even cold.
Throwing Heather down, he rips off her clothes. She CRIES OUT brokenly. There's no one to hear.
CUT TO:
THE KURGAN
Eyeballing MacLeod's stricken face in St. Patrick's.
Understanding dawns in his lurid eyes.
KURGAN
I see. Ramirez lied. The woman was not his. She was yours.
(leering)
And she never told you. I wonder why. Perhaps I gave her something you never could, and secretly she yearned for my return.
On his feet, MacLeod shakes with fury.
MACLEOD
You sick bastard - !
He lunges for the sword inside his coat. The Kurgan's hands fly up in mock-horror.
KURGAN
Holy ground, Highlander. Remember what Ramirez taught you.
MACLEOD
You can't stay in here forever.
KURGAN
(smiling)
You're weak, Highlander. You will always be weaker than I.
MACLEOD
I'll be out front. Waiting.
MacLeod leaves by the front doors. Metallic laughter rings through the church. Worshippers are outraged.
A bald PRIEST confronts the Kurgan.
PRIEST
This is the house of God. People are trying to pray. You're disturbing them.
The Kurgan kisses the Priest's hand noisily, dropping to his knees.
KURGAN
Forgive me, father. I am a worm.
Patting the Priest's head for luck, the Kurgan boogies down the aisle in hobnail boots.
Safety-pins jangling at his throat, he heads for the back exit.
He leaps out into the night. The DOOR BANGS. The Priest crosses himself.
CUT TO:
BRENDA GRILLING RACHEL IN NASH'S ANTIQUE SHOP
BRENDA
I want to see him, goddamnit.
RACHEL
I'm afraid that's impossible. Mr. Nash -
BRENDA
Nash is dead. He died at birth. Didn't he, Miss Ellenstein.
MACLEOD
Suddenly SLAMS open the door, seeing Brenda.
MACLEOD
What are you doing here?
BRENDA
Looking for a dead guy named Nash. He died at birth in Syracuse.
MacLeod looks at Brenda. She's done her homework, and she's not going to leave. He makes a decision.
MACLEOD
Come on.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD AND BRENDA ENTERING HIS PRIVATE APARTMENT
She's dumbfounded staring at the opulent surroundings. He moves to the bar.
MACLEOD
Do you want a scotch?
BRENDA
Is is Old?
MACLEOD
It's 12 years old. Do you want some or not?
She nods. He pours drinks, handing her one. Taking her arm, he leads her down a hall.
MACLEOD AND BRENDA ENTER HIS SILVER ROOM
Her expression changes to awe.
The room is filled with suits of armor, Italian statuettes, Persian fetishes, and a thousand other oddities from a hundred eras.
The sight is overwhelming.
BRENDA
My God.
Astonished, she strolls around, touching artifacts. He watches her.
BRENDA
(continuing; pointing)
Is that claymore real?
He lets go. Years of isolation melt in the sound of her voice.
MACLEOD
Yes.
Brenda runs her hand along the delicate weaving of a Carolingian tapestry.
She turns and faces him.
MACLEOD
I have been alive for four and a half centuries. And I cannot die.
BRENDA
(nervously)
Right. And I'm an Amazon princess sent by Martians to save the world.
He's caressing her with his eyes, confushing her again.
Crossing to a glass table, he picks up an ornate stiletto.
BRENDA
(continuing; alarmed)
What are you going to do with that?
He offers her the hilt.
MACLEOD
Take it.
Reluctantly, her fingers close over the handle.
Suddenly, MacLeod kneels before her, tearing open his shirt, exposing his chest.
In one blurred move, he grabs her fist. She tries to drop the dagger, but his grip is like steel.
MACLEOD
I am Conner MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. I was born in 1518, in the village of Glamis, on the shores of Loch Shiel.
(tightening his grip)
And I am immortal.
In a flash, he pulls her fist forward:
Plunging the stiletto into his heart.
Letting go, she screams. He collapses, moaning.
Freaking out, Brenda watches:
MacLeod pulls the dagger out of his heart.
The wound heals. He stands up. Brenda is lost.
CUT TO:
BRENDA AND MACLEOD AT THE DINNER TABLE
She's flushed, excited in the presence of living history. MacLeod pours brandy, getting comfortable. Brenda watches him draw on his cigar.
BRENDA
I've got a million questions. I don't know what to ask first.
MACLEOD
I have all the time in the world.
BRENDA
You were with Napoleon at Waterloo.
(he nods)
What was he like?
MACLEOD
Short. French. Wore his hat sideways.
She spots the silver-frame photo of MacLeod with a 12-year-old girl.
BRENDA
Is this your daughter?
MACLEOD
Yes.
BRENDA
What's her name?
MACLEOD
Rachel.
Brenda frowns. Slowly realizing, she points.
BRENDA
You mean that Rachel?
MACLEOD
(nodding)
Yes. She was an orphan. I can't have children. I adopted her.
(drolly)
Over the years, our relationship has gone through qquite a few changes.
BRENDA
She's old enough to be your mother.
MACLEOD
Sometimes she thinks she is.
Rising, he takes the Samurai from the sheath in his coat, laying it before her.
MACLEOD
This was forged in 593 B.C. Metal folded over 200 times.
He enjoys her amazement.
MACLEOD
(continuing gently)
Like finding a 747 a thousand years before the Wright Brothers flew. Right?
She runs her fingers over the blade.
BRENDA
This belonged to Ramirez?
MACLEOD
Yes.
Reality hits her like a bolt. She's alone with an immortal, holding a sword forged half-a-century before Christ.
BRENDA
How many men have you killed with this?
MACLEOD
Too many. They're all gone. Except for one.
He kisses her.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD AND BRENDA MAKING PASSIONATE LOVE
She grips his scar-covered back. He tastes her face and neck.
CUT TO:
HEATHER DYING IN THE 16TH CENTURY
CUT TO:
MACLEOD AND BRENDA IN BED
Head on his chest, she feels his breathing, stroking his muscular chest.
BRENDA
You're like the sun, going on for ever and ever.
MACLEOD
The sun will burn out in ten billion years.
BRENDA
Then what'll you do - walk around in the dark?
He kisses her. She touches his cheek.
BRENDA
Tell me more about Heather.
He frowns, sitting up.
BRENDA
In all these years, she was the only one you really loved, right?
He bounces out of bed stark naked, deciding to go into the bathroom. She SHOUTS after him.
BRENDA
And losing her was too painful to bear - was that it?
(silence)
Come on. In every relationship, somebody has to die first.
MACLEOD (O.S.)
Yes, but the survivor doesn't have to go on forever.
He turns on the SHOWER, FULL-BLAST.
BRENDA
It's not just your body that's covered in scars. D'you know that?
The shower STOPS. Towel around his waist, he marches out of the bathroom.
MACLEOD
I don't want to talk about this.
BRENDA
I wouldn't want you to spend 10,000 years in a hair shirt if I was Heather.
Doing his best to ignore her, he stacks magazines.
BRENDA
I heard Christiaan Barnard on TV one time.
MACLEOD
Who?
BRENDA
Heart guy. He did the first transplant.
MACLEOD
I don't have heart trouble.
BRENDA
Oh, yes, you do.
(a beat)
Anyway, Barnard's patients always wanted to live longer. That's why they came to him. For new hearts. But he wouldn't give any guarantees. All he could promise them was freedom from pain.
MACLEOD
What is your point?
BRENDA
My point is, Ramirez was wrong. Just one year of love. though it ends in death, is better than an eternity alone.
MACLEOD
Are you making a proposal?
Seductively, she pulls the sheet around her.
BRENDA
Not me. Besides, we've only just met.
(pause)
Come here a minute.
MACLEOD
Why?
BRENDA
I want to check your pulse.
He's on her in a flash.
CUT TO:
MORAN AND BRENDA WALKING DOWN A HALLWAY
She's pissed.
BRENDA
Frank, call off Bedsoe. I don't need any protection.
MORAN
You saw Nash at least twice. Why?
They descend stairs in a wave of milling cops.
BRENDA
I was looking for something.
MORAN
Did you find it?
BRENDA
Maybe.
Moran jams his cigar in his mouth. They arrive at Brenda's office.
MORAN
Brenda, there's stuff going on in this Head-Hunter case you wouldn't believe. Nash is involved somehow. I don't want you hurt.
BRENDA
I'm okay. I promise.
She smiles, unlocking her office, going inside.
CUT TO:
BRENDA AND MACLEOD TOURING THE BRONX ZOO
Eating popcorn. They pause at:
THE GIRAFFE ENCLOSURE
He's pensive. She's energized
BRENDA
I had it all laid out. Forensics. In 3 years, a lectureship at Columbia. Tenure. Husband, couple of kids.
He nods distractedly, eyes riveted on:
A LONE WOLF IN A CAGE
Staring at him. The connection between man and beast is timeless. Their heartbeats and breathing become one.
In his mind, Ramirez's VOICE ECHOES down 400 years:
RAMIREZ'S VOICE
I had to go on, never again to hear the sound of her voice, her laughter. She left behind such a silence.
The wolf turns away. MacLeod's mind reels.
BRENDA
You're not, listening.
MACLEOD
Brenda, this isn't going to work. I can't get involved with someone. Not again.
BRENDA
(quickly)
Who said anything about being involved?
Hiding her feelings, she moves to:
BIRDS IN AN AVIARY
Parrots SCREECH. He joins her.
BRENDA
If all you want's an occasional night together, that's fine with me.
All around the zoo, wild-life starts to act strangely. Tigers claw their cages. Monkeys go crazy. Hyenas attack one another.
Bears try to climb out of their pit. The hairs on the back of MacLeod's neck stand up. His mind reels.
MACLEOD
(looking around)
It's not that simple.
BRENDA
You think I'm going to turn you in to Moran.
From every direction, SHRIEKS, GROWLS, TRUMPETINGS.
Visitors think it's feeding time, but MacLeod knows different. His eyes are everywhere, searching for the Kurgan.
MACLEOD
No, I don't think you'll do that.
He reaches for her hand. She pulls it away.
BRENDA
There's something I want to say.
A happy-faced CLOWN wanders past, selling balloons.
MacLeod's hand is under the shoulder of his coat, gripping his sword, scanning every passing face, searching for his mortal enemy.
BRENDA
I love you.
(a beat)
But you're locked away in your own private world of memories. No future. Unable to care. Afraid.
THE KURGAN IN THE CHILDREN'S ENCLOSURE
Surrounded by kids petting sweet, furry things. He peers through the trees.
AT THE PENGUIN-POOL
Excited kids jostle and SHOUT. MacLeod is in turmoil.
BRENDA
You know what's kind of weird? Most people are afraid to die. That's not your problem. You're afraid to live.
(rises)
Take care of yourself.
(kisses him)
Don't lose your head.
She turns and walks for the exit.
CUT TO:
THE KURGAN
Watches Brenda leave. A KID hands him a rabbit. He strokes it. It struggles, biting him hard. Flinging it from him, he takes off.
BRENDA GETS OUT OF HER APARTMENT ELEVATOR
It's dark and late. The building's empty.
Jostling an armful of books, she starts down the corridor.
Turning a corner she suddenly FREEZES.
The books tumble out of her arms onto the floor.
Standing at the end of the corridor, smiling, is the Kurgan, in black leather, buckles and stomping-boots. His hair is shaved into an orange mohawk.
KURGAN
Hello, pretty.
The Kurgan starts for her, carrying a huge, broadsword.
Brenda screams and runs for her apartment.
The Kurgan is in no hurry.
Brenda looks back at the Kurgan. Crying in fear, she frantically tries to get her keys into the lock of her apartment.
The Kurgan is nearly upon her.
Brenda throws open the door, runs inside, and locks it.
Beat.
CRASH!!
The Kurgan hammers his sword deep into the wood of the door.
BRENDA
(crying)
Oh, God...
He strikes again. And again. Splinters smack everywhere.
BRENDA
Go away! Oh, God, go away!
Hysterical, Brenda sinks to the floor against her desk.
The Kurgan stands back and gives the door a last two-fisted swing.
Brenda screams.
The door collapses.
The hellish figure stands over her in the doorway.
BRENDA
For God's sake...
KURGAN
There is no God. Only me.
CUT TO:
A SPEEDING CAR RACES THROUGH THE CITY
The Kurgan takes a cassette from his pocket, slotting it in. DEAFENING MUSIC fills the car:
It's the KURGAN'S ANTHEM.
Brenda is trying to get her bearings.
MUSIC SHRIEKS, her ears burst. Cars rocket past like bullets. Speedometer 90 and climbing.
Brenda stares at the Mohawk abortion with his foot to the floor.
BRENDA
(shouting)
Stop. Please, stop.
The Kurgan erupts in maniacal laughter.
Brenda hangs on for dear life. Everything's a blur. Any second, she's going to die.
Engine WHINING, MUSIC POUNDING, eyeballing his captive:
The Kurgan runs chicken down the avenue, not stopping for red lights.
Flat-out, stopping for nothing, getting his rocks off, shrieking like a banshee.
In his wake, a maelstrom of wreckage and terror.
ANTHEM BLARING, he flings the Cutlass into the dark mouth of the Mid-Town Tunnel.
Brenda screams.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD SLUMPED ON A COUCH IN HIS LIVING ROOM
Replaying a RECORDED message:
KURGAN'S VOICE
She gave me your number. She didn't want to at first. Listen.
Brenda sobs.
KURGAN
She's hot, Highlander. I think she wants me. What part of her shall I cut off first?
More CRYING. MacLeod shuts it off. Rachel at the door.
RACHEL
The endless killing has driven him mad.
Rising, he puts on his coat and checks his Samurai, holding her face in his hands.
MACLEOD
Rachel, there are some instructions in the desk drawer. I want you to follow them. There's a power-of-attorney for you. You'll have everything you need.
RACHEL
(realizing)
You're not coming back.
Silence.
RACHEL
Even if you kill him, you're not coming back. Are you?
He sits her down, holding her hands.
MACLEOD
(gently)
Sweet Rachel, you always knew this would happen.
(a beat)
Russell Nash dies tonight. One way or the other. It's time.
RACHEL
(crying)
There's no one in my life but you.
MacLeod gives her a handkerchief.
MACLEOD
You still have a lot of life to live.
RACHEL
I'm afraid.
MACLEOD
A beautiful woman like you need never be alone or afraid.
He stands up, smiling down at her.
RACHEL
What about Brenda?
MACLEOD
He's given me an hour.
RACHEL
I understand.
He kisses her, hugging her tight.
MACLEOD
Goodbye, dearest Rachel. My daughter. My good friend.
He leaves. Long silence. Tears roll down her cheeks.
RACHEL
(whispering)
Goodbye, Russell Nash.
CUT TO:
CONEY ISLAND AMUSEMENT PARK AT NIGHT
Bitter cold. A sign reads:
"CLOSED
NO ADMITTANCE"
Breakers pound the beach. WIND HOWLS through the park.
The roller-coaster's a prehistoric monster. Light flickers from a merry-go-round pavilion.
CUT TO:
THE KURGAN ASSEMBLING HIS SWORD
Inside the pavilion, slotting the blade into place.
Sprawled in sawdust, Brenda stares at carved wooden horses. Shivering, she sits up, trying to figure out where she is.
The Kurgan looms over her, blade gleaming.
KURGAN
A nice sleep, yes?
She tries to rise. He sets his sword-point at her throat.
KURGAN
One move, whore, and I'll slice you to bits.
He forces her back. She's freezing and terrified.
BRENDA
You're an animal.
KURGAN
I am Kurgan. Warrior eternal. I have carved my name in the flesh of Venetian princes, raped the daughters of Attila the Hun, and set ablaze the seven hills of Rome.
(grating)
You are nothing. Born and dead in the blink of my eye.
(a beat)
You are my slave, and will give me whatever pleasure I demand.
BRENDA
You puffed-up turd. You don't have the equipment.
She spits at him. He glares in fury.
BRENDA
Come on. Kill me. You're going to do it anyway.
(a beat)
What's the matter? No balls?
The Kurgan smiles. She's clever, this bitch.
KURGAN
I see. You try to anger me, so I kill you before you lover arrives. Then I have no advantage.
BRENDA
(staggers up)
I'm nothing to him. Just a roll in the hay.
Breath billowing, mohawk trembling, he wonders if that's true. Suddenly he freezes, staring out into the dark.
KURGAN
He cares for you. More than you think. I can feel his approach.
(a beat)
My advantage is real.
Grabbing a hammer, she hurls it at him. He bats it away with his sword, slapping her across the face.
MacLeod appears, samurai in hand.
The Kurgan drags Brenda up by the hair, hand over her mouth, blade resting across her neck. MacLeon starts forward.
KURGAN
Stop, or I'll cut her.
Tense as a cobra, MacLeod stops.
MACLEOD
Let her go.
KURGAN
I don't think so.
He yanks her head farther back, eyes on the Highlander.
KURGAN
If you care what happens to her. put down your sword and walk away.
(pointing)
Over there.
Brenda fights to break his grip. The Kurgan chokes her. MacLeod puts down his sword.
KURGAN
Very good. Now move.
MacLeod moves.
KURGAN
Kneel down, neck exposed.
MACLEOD
Let her go first.
KURGAN
Do you think thousands of years have made me an idiot?
(barking)
Kneel - !
Boiling, he obeys.
Hurling Brenda away from him, the Kurgan swings murderously at MacLeod's exposed neck.
Like a panther, MacLeod rolls, grabs his samurai, and meets the ROARING BLADE with a THUNDEROUS CLANG and a shower of sparks.
MacLeod leaps to his feet.
KURGAN
So now it ends. Generation upon generation. Millions of miles.
Wielding his sword like a scythe, MacLeod attacks, driving the kurgan back in showers of sparks. BLADES CLANG in the gloom.
The Kurgan blocks his parries brilliantly. They lock sword-hilts, face to face.
BRENDA
Kill him! Kill him!
The Kurgan hurls him across the pavilion. He lands on his back, winded.
Yelling, the Kurgan charges, driving MacLeod out into the night. Brenda follows fearfully.
CUT TO:
A SAVAGE BATTLE RAGING THROUGH THE PARK
Between the reptilian day-glo nightmare and the 466-year-old Highlander.
Roller-coaster pilings are severed and collapse. Arcades demolished, ferris-wheel chairs hacked to bits. Energy crackles all around them.
They battle beneath a huge red wooden fruit. Painted on it in lurid colors:
FUN IN THE BIG APPLE
Circling, MacLeod's eyes burn into his ancient enemy.
MACLEOD
I can sense it again. What I felt in the church. What are you hiding?
KURGAN
Nothing.
They grapple like primordial beasts, sweat pouring off their bodies.
MACLEOD
(realizing)
It's fear. That's what I feel. You're afraid of me. Kurgan, you're afraid of me.
(hurling him back)
That's why you needed the woman. You didn't think you could take me.
KURGAN
(hoarsely)
Lies - !
His rabid eyes can't hide the truth. MacLeod charges again, wielding Ramirez's sword full-strength.
The Kurgan's arms feel like lead. Gasping, he retreats to:
The icy beach.
MacLeod beating him back.
MACLEOD
All these years, I thought I was running from you. But it was myself.
(contempuously)
You're not the perfect warrior. You're a coward.
MacLeod batters him relentlessly. Each blocked blow saps Kurgan further.
Beaten, he stands, gulping for air. MacLeod faces him, samurai poised for another blow.
The Kurgan can't get it up. Brenda's rooted to the spot.
MACLEOD
(continuing, to the Kurgan)
For Heather, Ramirez, Kastagir and all the others I never knew. And last, for the Highlander MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod -
He raises his Samurai.
MACLEOD
There can be only one.
Blade a WHISTLING blur:
He cuts off the Kurgan's head.
Transfixed, Brenda watches a sparkling energy leave the corpse and engulf MacLeod. Standing up:
MacLeod glows all hues of the rainbow.
His hair stands on end. Color erupts from his eyes. He's like a roman candle against the waves. The WIND HOWLS.
MACLEOD
(continuing; screaming)
Mother of God - !
Terrified, she tries to touch him. It's like his skin's on fire.
BRENDA
(shouting)
What is it - ?
Glowing, he falls to his knees in the sand.
MACLEOD
The Prize. It is the Prize.
Suddenly, everything's still. His eyes probe the darkness. There's a TERRIFYING EXPLOSION.
Brenda watches MacLeod's body transform into many different people. His voice ECHOES over the surf.
MACLEOD
Everything's alive. The Quickening overpowers me.
(becoming Ramirez)
All resistance is gone. I am generations being born and dying.
(becoming Fasil)
I am night air, breathing.
(becoming unknown people)
The life-force smothers me.
(becoming the Kurgan)
I am all of them.
(becoming himself)
I can feel everything
She's terrified. His form shifts and changes before her. Waves CRASH on the beach.
MACLEOD
I can feel your love. The blood in your veins.
He reaches out to her.
MACLEOD
Your fear of me.
CUT TO:
FIRE TRUCK
Converging on MacLeod's antique shop.
SIRENS SCREAMING. It's a blazing inferno. Cops hold back crowds. Firemen direct hoses. Tears in her eyes:
Rachel moves through the crowd.
She's carrying the silver-framed 1952 photo of herself with Nash. Beams split in cascades of sparks.
CUT TO:
MORAN
Stands on the sidewalk. TV crews film the blaze. Cops hold back gawkers behind barriers. Seeing Rachel, Moran takes her arm.
MORAN
I'm sorry. We couldn't get him out.
RACHEL
I know.
MORAN
(eyeing her)
The Head-Hunter got another one tonight.
RACHEL
(anxiously)
What was his name?
MORAN
Some guy named Kruger.
Relieved, she closes her eyes for a moment. MacLeod has won.
MORAN
Why d'you ask, Miss Ellenstein?
RACHEL
You can call me Rachel if you want.
MORAN
Rachel's a nice name
(seeing photo)
What's that?
She shows it him.
MORAN
Nash.
(she nods)
Who's the pretty young girl?
RACHEL
(smiling)
Would you like to get some coffee?
Puzzled, he looks at the photo, then at her. Taking his arm, she walks him off down the street.
Behind them, the inferno RAGES.
CUT TO:
THREE UPS GUYS
Unloading MacLeod's aquarium off a truck.
Reeling under its weight, they stagger up the steps of a brownstone, ringing the bell repeatedly.
After an eternity, Bedsoe appears in striped pajamas, rubbing his eyes.
UPS GUY
You Bedsoe?
BEDSOE
Yeah.
UPS GUY
Delivery. Fish. Heavy. Get out of the way.
Pushing past him with the tank, they disappear inside.
UPS GUY'S VOICE
Where d'you want it?
BEDSOE
Wait a minute. There must be some mistake. I didn't order any fish.
CUT TO:
MACLEOD ON THE FAN-TAIL OF A LINER, ALONE
Bright sun, gulls astern. Passengers bask by a pool. Waiters serve drinks.
He stares at the rolling ocean. Everything is different. There's a power and growing confidence in his eyes.
Brenda appears in a summer dress, carrying glasses and an open bottle. She joins him, setting them on the rail, watching him in silence.
MACLEOD
A man named Armando Rafael Garcia, right now, is planning a military coup in Honduras. Many people may die.
BRENDA
How do you know?
MACLEOD
(searching for words)
I can't explain it. I just do.
BRENDA
You mean like when the phone rings sometimes, and before you answer, you know who's calling?
MACLEOD
Something like that. I'm just learning about it -
(pause)
In Paris, Jean-Robert Tousche and Sylvie Arnaud live in adjoining houses.
(turning to her)
They're deeply in love, but they never speak to each other.
The breeze stirs her hair. The implications of what he's saying astound her.
BRENDA
What are you going to do with all this power?
MACLEOD
I don't know. I think I can help the people in Honduras, the lovers in paris.
(shakes his head)
I'm not sure how yet. I don't fully grasp it.
Gulls hang on the wind. Changing mood, Brenda grins, digging him in the ribs.
BRENDA
Before you start saving lives in Honduras and lovers in Paris, will you do something for me?
He blinks, focusing on her. His eyes are still magic. She loves him to death.
MACLEOD
Yes. What would you like?
BRENDA
Will you take me to Scotland? I want to see where you were born.
MacLeod is pleased. After all the years he's lived, the miles he's travelled, the thought of returning to the place where it all started moves him.
MACLEOD
(embracing her)
Are you sure this is what you want?
BRENDA
I'm sure.
He strokes her face.
MACLEOD
Will you call me Conner MacLeod? It's my real name. I long to hear it again.
She tries not to cry. He holds her tight, looking into her eyes. He knows what she's thinking.
MACLEOD
Ramirez was wrong. Just one year of love is better than an eternity alone.
Composure regained, she grins.
BRENDA
Right. Now it's time for the ceremony.
MACLEOD
What ceremony?
She fills the glasses, handing him one.
MACLEOD
What's that?
BRENDA
Plum brandy. 1976.
MACLEOD
1976?
BRENDA
It was all I could find. Listen, 1976 was a very good year.
(reciting)
America celebrated its 200th year of independence from England. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest won five Academy Awards. And Pittsburgh beat Dallas in the Super Bowl.
MACLEOD
Is that right?
BRENDA
Yes. 21 to 17.
He cracks up, kissing her eyes, mouth, hair. She pushes him away.
BRENDA
Wait. I'm not finished. I want to make a toast.
He smiles, remembering the night at her apartment.
BRENDA
To Time.
They raise their glasses. She forgets her lines.
MACLEOD
How long do we have to stand like this?
BRENDA
Hold it a second. I'm trying to remember.
Next second, she's ready. He wonders what's coming. She looks at him lovingly.
BRENDA
In the sun that is young once only Time lets me hail and climb Golden in the heyday of his eyes.
He blinks.
BRENDA
In the moon that is always rising
Time holds me green and dying
Though i sing in my chains
Like the sea.
They clink glasses.
BRENDA
Dylan Thomas.
Moved, he drinks. Putting down her glass, she flings her arms around his neck, kissing him. He responds passionately.
MACLEOD
You're quite a woman, Brenda Wyatt. I love you with all my heart
BRENDA
And I love you.
(touching his face.
My Conner MacLeod.
The liner moves away.
FADE OUT
THE END